


Missing Jared

by rankwriter



Series: Missing Jared [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rankwriter/pseuds/rankwriter





	1. Chapter 1

**Fic title:** Missing Jared  
 **Author name:** Rankwriter  
 **Artist name:** Catrinalia  
 **Genre:** RPS  
 **Pairing:** Jeff/Jensen (past Jared/Jensen)  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Word count:** 46k +  
 **Warnings:** (skip)  Attempted suicide, mental health issues, underage, disturbing and unresolved character status.  


 **Summary:** Jensen is trying to get his life back on track. The last few years have been traumatic. Now he’s finally off to college, he’s made a new friend and has a crush on his professor. But there are things in his past that are unresolved and Jensen isn’t as strong as he’d hoped and everything comes crashing down. Now he’s learning to live without his first love and trying to sort out what he wants to do with his life. He’s had to accept that he’ll probably never stop missing Jared, but six years is a long time to keep hoping. So maybe it’s time to move on. Perhaps there’s even the chance of a new romance. It’s all very confusing.

_Sometimes I dream of him._

_Of course, at the time I don’t realize that it’s a dream. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s always hazy, like everything is just out of focus, not misty or foggy just...off. It’s night time, which is odd because he disappeared in broad daylight, the street lights are old-fashioned, like the gas ones you see in old movies. The street is wide and there are railings surrounding the townhouses, tall and spiky. I can see Jared up ahead; he is moving away from me, quickly. Although he’s not running, I am, but I can’t keep up. I’m calling his name over and over again, but he doesn’t turn; he just moves further into the distance. I’m crying, I can feel the tears wet on my face. He becomes smaller, lost in the haze. I know then that I’ll never see him again and I wake with a jolt, feeling melancholy and alone._

 

I’m leaving for college today. I’m twenty-four and finally, just going. I’m going to be the odd one out: too old to be cool , not clever enough for the geeks. People will wonder why I didn’t go to college straight from school. I considered lying, saying I took time off to travel, but where have I been? A few no-name towns that I visited because of tips that Jared had been seen there. Of course, nothing came of any of them. 

I hear my mother fussing around downstairs. She’s not saying anything, but I know she’s not happy I’m leaving. Six years ago, she would’ve been happy. In fact, it was all planned. I had a scholarship, a place at Cornell, but then....Well, it doesn’t matter now. She’s just worried that I’m not stable enough, and some days I think she’s right. However, I need to get out of this town, away from my memories and the sympathetic looks, and worse still, the accusing glances that even now, six years later, still cut me to the quick. 

 

Surveying the room, I see my life reduced to a few boxes and a couple of suitcases, and I smile. It makes me feel good that I can pack everything away. It’s like a fresh start and it’s exactly what I need. I wish it was so easy to pack the bad memories away, lock them up and lose the key.

In the car, my mom talks. I hear the words she’s saying, but I don’t bother trying to comprehend them. I turn and smile at her, and that’s enough. She smiles back, satisfied that I’m okay, and I turn away to look out at the ever-changing landscape as she drives me to the airport. There’s the field Jared and I played in as boys, my stomach lurches and I turn my head to keep it in view as long as possible. I almost ask my mom to stop so I can get out of the car and run through the field. Would it smell the same, the sweet grassy aroma underlaid by wild flowers. The tree we used to climb looks smaller, surely it should be taller. The rope swing that hung there is long gone, we would while away the hours seeing who could swing highest. Daring each other to do crazier stunts. Would I feel closer to Jared there or would I feel his loss more keenly. I guess I’ll never know now as the field disappears behind me, much like Jared. I’m leaving behind both the good memories and the bad. I close my eyes for a moment almost in prayer although I’m not communing with God, maybe I’m whispering a belated goodbye to Jared.

My mom wanted to drive me all the way to California, but I put my foot down, she meant well but it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet now. I have to learn to look after myself. I know it’s hard for her to let go, she’s been taking care of me for so long now. I can see her reflection in the window and watch her discreetly. Her image is distorted but even so I can see the lines on her face, lines that weren’t there a few years ago. She looks careworn and I can’t help but think that I did that to her. 

“I love you mom” she starts at my voice but the smile that breaks over her face chases the years and stress away. She looks girlish as she takes my hand.

“I love you too” 

At the airport, she hands me the ticket as she throws her arms around me. I can tell she’s trying not to cry, so I hug her back. Her love got me through dark times. I kiss her on the cheek then I make my way to the departure lounge. I give her a backward glance and a wave, and she smiles at me. Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, I wonder whether mine are too.

I don’t remember much of the flight, I couldn’t describe the plane to you, or the person who sat next to me. I don’t think I slept but maybe I did, that would explain why it is such a blur. The cab ride to the university passes in a similar fashion. Classes start tomorrow and I’m arriving late. I expect most students are already moved in. I didn’t want to arrive too early I didn’t want too much time to think. I was worried that my negative thoughts would taint this new place if I let them. This is my fresh start, new town, new people and a new me. 

I managed to get a single dorm room, I suspect it was because of my history, but I’m not going to complain. I like my privacy. I’m organized and tidy and I just know that a roommate would upset my equilibrium. 

Jared was untidy. In fact, he gloried in his mess and havoc. I loved him, but we had never lived together, and I’ve wondered whether our differences would have caused problems had we roomed together. I know I had idealized our relationship after he had gone, but I suspect there would have been friction between us, and not the good kind. 

With a smile, I start to put up photos on the pin board. There are several of Jared and me. I smile at Jared’s picture; he looks so young, only sixteen when they were taken. There’s the one of us down by the lake, where I’m trying to hide my scrawny chest while Jared does his strongman pose. That one always makes me laugh. It’s tinged with sadness too though, because that was the night we first made love. Down there on the sand, the waves lapping the shore, the breeze rustling the reeds Jared and I came together for the first time.

My mom says I should put them away now, that I shouldn’t have a shrine to him, but it’s not a shrine! It’s not. Jared isn’t dead. And until someone shows me his body, I won’t believe otherwise.

There are only five photos of him and me now, I’ve put the others away., I look again at the two of us at the beach. It was perfect. We were perfect.

I don’t remember meeting Jared. It was like we were always friends—always JaredandJensen. It could have been a cliché: childhood friends becoming teenage boyfriends, and then lovers. It didn’t feel cliché. He was everything to me, and we had that intensity that people say only first love creates. We spent so much time together, exploring our friendship and then each other’s bodies, and even today I don’t know which made me happier.

Since Jared disappeared, I’ve often wondered whether that intensity would have burnt itself out? Would it have flared and died if the relationship had been able to run it’s course, or would it have lasted, stayed perfect, like it is now in my memory. Of course, now I’ll never know. It will always be the perfect partnership, passionate and fierce and wonderful for all it’s brevity.

Sighing I turn away. Maybe my mom was right: maybe it isn’t healthy to hold on after all this time. 

I had only been on campus once, at my interview, so I decide to take a walk. Being stuck on the plane for five hours then lugging my suitcases to the dorms, stiffened me up. The weather seems typically Californian, warm with a slight breeze. Some other day, I may take the CalTrain to San Francisco and do some sight-seeing, but for now I just wander near the campus aimlessly, stopping at a little café for a salad and some juice. I easily recognize my fellow students, but I don’t make conversation. I’ll save that for later.

I have decided to study Law, even though when I was first offered a place at college it was to study English. That was before, and now things have changed. Jared and I were going to go together. He had a football scholarship and was going to study physical education. We’d hoped to room together. We were in love, and it was going to be the start of our lives together. Of course it never happened. On an unseasonably cool day in July, less than a week after his eighteenth birthday, Jared went to get some soda and snacks from the market and he never came back. The police looked for him, local residents got together a search party--we even hired a private eye--but in the end, the leads and the sightings came to nothing. 

The police are supposedly still looking for him, but I suspect his file is growing mould in some rusty filing cabinet. Six years is a long time. I know, because I’ve felt every long minute like a razor cut across my skin.

I’m angry at myself now for letting my thoughts go down that road. My doctor says it’s alright to think of the good times, but not to dwell on how things ended-- if that’s the right word. I can’t help it though. Every good memory leads me to that dreadful day, and the harrowing days that followed it. I know that it’s time to move on, but I still hope--with every molecule of my body--that he’ll walk through the door, smiling his all-consuming smile, as if the last six years never happened. That’s what I hope for, but as time passes, I know it’s never going to happen.

I head back to my dorm as the sun moves lower in the sky, I smile and nod at a few of my neighbors as I pass them in the halls, but don’t stop to chat. It’s only just turned nine o’clock, but I fall into bed anyway. I sleep soundly until morning. If I dream, I don’t remember it

I’m “up with the lark”, as my mom would say. Showered and dressed and walking to the cafe I found yesterday. I want to delay meeting my fellow students and this will do that. However, I can’t afford to eat out all the time, but just once, just for today, I’m going to treat myself. The morning is warm already although it’s not eight am yet. There is a subtle haze to the air, it appears almost yellow. Gentle like the weather is on the cusp of changing from summer to autumn. 

I take a table outside the cafe the tables and chairs are iron painted white. They give the cafe an almost European look. I order a decaf coffee and a Danish pastry from the waiter, a young man with a winning smile that I try to return. I mustn’t have managed very well because he flinches. I root in my pocket and extract my Xanax. I’ve been managing okay without them but today is a big day and I don’t want a panic attack to spoil everything. Apart from the potential for embarrassment, an attack leaves me out of sorts for days. Shaky but exhausted and my mind racing so just in case I pop the pill into my mouth and swallow.

The pastry I choose is delicious: apple Danish, sweet and delicate. It probably contains a million calories. But as I’ve lost so much weight since Jared disappeared then this will probably do me good. So I just eat it and enjoy. By the time I’m halfway through, I’m already full and feeling slightly sick. Since I stopped taking the anti-depressants I can actually taste my food and can actually enjoy eating again, even though my appetite is still repressed. 

My first lecture is at ten and I have to make my way across campus to the Boalt Hall; I finish up my coffee and leave a tip, smiling at the waiter as I leave. I think he buys that smile, I’m getting better at fitting in. I consult my map and without too much difficulty find the building which is bustling with activity, students and staff milling around with no apparent reason. 

It takes me more time to find the lecture room, negotiating my way past an eclectic mix of students of all ages and types. When I do, I sit at the back in a corner, hoping to escape notice here. I’ve got about ten minutes to spare, so I get my MacBook out and boot her up . I don’t look at my wallpaper, because I still expect to see Jared smiling at me. I chose some bland thing from the default menu the night before my flight because coming here is supposed to be my fresh start. But if I close my eyes I still see it, I still see him. It’s both a comfort and a curse.

I feel the curl of low level panic move through my body, either the Xanax hasn’t kicked in yet or all this new stimuli is too much. I concentrate on loading up Pages, word processing program, because distraction always helps in these circumstances.

I hear a cough, and when I look up I see another student taking the seat next to mine. He looks even older than me, early thirties, maybe. He has long, dirty-blond hair, and soft blue eyes. He’s shorter than me, but of a much stockier build. He smiles and his blue eyes twinkle. Maybe he singled me out because he knew we’d be two misfits together. 

“Chris” he offers  
”Jensen,” I reply, smiling.

“So, you and me,” he says. ”Looks like we’re the mature contingent.”

I can’t help but smile. ”Are you calling me old?”

He coughs and smirks. ”Well, if the label fits.”

I try to look aggrieved, but can’t manage it. This is the first time since… then, that someone hasn’t treated me as fragile , and I like it. In fact I don’t remember the last time someone joked with me. Maybe it was out of respect for Jared, or for my feelings for Jared. That doesn’t make sense though, somedays Jared and I were all about the banter. God I miss that, the gentle teasing, the back and forth of quick repartee and the silly verbal dueling that took up so much of our time together. I’m about to make a clever comeback when the professor comes in. The buzz of conversation dies as we all look up.

The professor is a good looking, older man, probably in his thirties, with dark hair, greying around the sideburns. His face is lined, but they’re the lines that come from smiling and enjoying life., He looks friendly, and I’m surprised to feel my stomach lurch with attraction. It’s so disconcerting I nearly get up and walk out. I’m suddenly aware of my heartbeat and I can feel a flush crawl up my face

In the last six years, I have felt no sexual stirrings what so ever, and now… now I have an instant crush on my professor? How clichéd. When Jared left he took that part of me with him. I lost my desire, I didn’t want to touch myself, I became almost asexual. Some mornings I awake with an erection but that’s just a physical response and I have no interest in pleasuring myself. Yet suddenly I feel the stirrings of arousal, faint but certain. I really don’t know what to make of this, I feel off balance. I truly expected to live out my life celibate. Why wouldn’t I? I almost laugh out loud but temper myself to a slight snort. Chris looks at me strangely but I just smile and listen to Professor Morgan introduce Contracts. 

The lecture flies by, I’m enthralled by Professor Morgan’s voice. The subject matter is dry, but he makes it interesting. His lecture is full of funny asides as he illustrates the material with stories of some of the sillier codicils he had found. I’m hanging on his every word, watching as he moves about the hall. He walks like a man and he owns the floor. I’m watching him as he makes eye contact with the students, those at the front and those, like myself, hiding at the back. 

“I can see you guys back there” he grins “I hope you’re paying attention” he catches my eye and he oozes confidence and charisma and I feel drawn to him. I would normally look away when someone makes eye contact, but I feel unaccountably comfortable with him and meet his gaze directly. He seems to look at me for a moment longer than anyone else, but maybe I imagined that, or was it wishful thinking? 

Then the lesson is over and the other students are leaving. Chris asks me if I want to go for a coffee, We don’t have another lecture for a couple of hours so we pack up. As we’re leaving, through the main door Professor Morgan waylays us.

“Hi guys.” His voice is deep and gravelly “Hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s nice to see a couple more mature students in the class. A bit of life experience can certainly help when it comes to the law.” Up close I can see the crinkles around his eyes, eyes that are a deep chocolate brown and sparkling with mischief. He looks both younger and older, his eyes are sharp and intelligent but his rugged face exhibits his years of experience. It’s a kind, open face that makes me want to trust him, I’m drawn to him. Not just in a sexual way, although there’s no denying he’s an attractive man, but I find that I want to befriend him. I’m shocked, it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt a connection to another human being that I find myself staring at the man. I try to lock those thoughts away. because they make me feel like I am being unfaithful to Jared.

I gather my wits together and smiling back at Professor Morgan, Chris and I say almost together,”Are you calling us old, professor?” Then we catch each other’s eye, snort, and high five each other. 

I see realization cross his face and he’s about to backtrack on what he said when he sees the joke in my eyes.

“Jeff,” he says. “Call me Jeff.” With his warm smile, sparkling eyes, and easy manner, I feel the stone I’ve been carrying in the pit of my stomach get lighter somehow. 

“Jeff,” I agree with my own smile. Am I flirting? It’s been such a long time, I’m not sure. I don’t think I am. But Jeff is looking at me with such intensity and when he smiles back it seems like the smile is only for me. I glance at Chris. His eyes are flicking from me to Jeff and back again as if he’s watching tennis. With a sigh, I realize that maybe I am flirting. 

“I’m Jensen and this is Chris,” I say, I don’t know where I’m getting this confidence from, I would normally let someone else do all the talking. We both shake Jeff’s hand. He manages to finagle an invite to have coffee with us. We walk to Caffe Strada and take a table outside under the trees. The place is buzzing with students but the trees and hedges give us the illusion of privacy. We order our coffees and over it Jeff tells us he isn’t the full time law professor; he is just standing in for the tenured professor who is on maternity leave and due back in a matter of weeks. He previously was a full-time lecturer but wanted to spend some time doing pro bono work for an LGBT law clinic and this job has given him the opportunity to do this. Chris tells us that he spent some time traveling around Europe. It was only meant to be for a couple of years, but he met a girl and stayed in Ireland for a decade. Then the relationship ended, and he came back to follow his dreams of becoming a lawyer, ten years late. Then it’s my turn.

When they look at me expectantly, I can barely think, and my tongue trips over the words. All I can manage is, “Things got away from me.”

They both give me an understanding look. I wonder just how understanding they would be if they knew that I had spent five years looking for my boyfriend... full time; obsessively tracking every sighting however improbable. Tracing and retracing Jared’s last known route. Never crying for fear that once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. Until the fifth anniversary of Jared’s disappearance, when Detective Johns rang and said there was still no news. Then I cried. I cried until I was dehydrated, and then I cried some more. Cried because I was finally admitting that Jared was never coming home, and because of all the nights I had lain awake wondering where he was, what he was doing, was he alive or lying dead. I cried because I had given up.  
Looking up at the two men I knew it was a story that I would probably never tell, but looking into Jeff’s eyes maybe, just maybe.

Jeff, Chris and I talk for what seems like for hours. Well, if I’m honest, they talk and I interject and agree occasionally, but by the time we’ve had our third coffee, we are so at ease with each other it’s like we’ve known each other for years. Jeff is relaxed and open, it seems like no subject is taboo with him and Chris is fearless, some of his stories make my hair stand on end. I haven’t had time to make friends in recent years, maybe I didn’t want to, but I feel a connection with these two disparate characters, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with them. When we leave to make our way to the next lecture, Jeff waves goodbye and I feel an unexpected twinge of sadness. I don’t want to explore my feelings for this man now, it’s all too confusing.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The day passes in a whirl of lectures and meetings. Chris and I are taking most of the same electives and I feel relaxed in his company. The fact that Chris is naturally garrulous takes attention away from me, and I much prefer to fade into the background. He is naturally outgoing and good looking. It’s a combination that has several girls exchanging phone numbers with him before classes are over. He encourages me to team up with him, when the interested girl has a friend, so I have to tell him I’m gay.

This doesn’t deter him. Instead, he starts pointing out cute boys, asking me about ‘my type’. It’s embarrassing and I want to tell him to stop but he’s enjoying himself so much I can’t spoil his fun. 

He tells me we’re going out that evening, checking out the student night life at a place one of his girls told him about. I want to say no, today has been incredible, stressful, stimulating and exhausting. I don’t think I have experienced so many emotions in one day for a long time. But I can tell he has his argument planned out by the determined look on his face, so I take the route of least resistance and nod. Maybe a night out will do me good, I tell myself. My doctor says the best therapy is keeping busy. It’s only when I have time on my hands that my mind wanders back to Jared and I start going over things, and that way lies madness...literally. I don’t want to start considering the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves’ I will only make myself unhappy and I can’t change anything now.

Chris says he will pick me up from my dorm room and sends me home to change. I wonder if he thinks I will try and get out of it if we arrange to meet at the bar. I must admit is is tempting but I’m showered and ready by the time he knocks on my door. We walk to the Starry Plough, Chris is excited about seeing the band, apparently they have a Celtic influence and he babbles on about how much he misses the Irish music scene. I feel his buoyant mood wash over me and I start to feel _something,_ maybe not happiness or contentment but something bordering on those things. And it feels good. 

I don’t drink. Even when I’m not taking the Xanax, alcohol is a depressant and I don’t need any help with that. Instead, I sit at the bar sipping a Coke and watching Chris network and flirt. The Coke is sweet on my tongue and I remember how I used to hate the flavor but Jared cured me of that. The boy was a Coke addict, not the drug obviously. He used to drink it by the case and I would smell it on his breath and taste it as we kissed. After, when he was gone, I started to drink it, savoring it as a lifeline, a connection to Jared.

Right now, Chris is chatting to the band. I watch him abstractly, he is so easy with people, he looks like he fits. 

I think the barman is coming on to me, and I do my best not to encourage him. I guess I know that people have found me attractive, even with the weight loss and the bags under my eyes, They look at my green eyes, the freckles and my lips. I’ve had enough comments about my lips to know what people hope for when they look at me the way the bartender is looking at me. He’s still trying to engage me in conversation when I hear the first bars of All I Did Was Love Her and I recognize the voice singing it. I turn to see Chris up on stage playing with the band, looking like he belongs there. The band is good, and Chris fits in like they’ve been playing together for years. Three songs later, Chris leaves the stage to applause and cheers. He is smiling broadly as he makes his way back to me weaving past interested girls who are vying for his attention.

When he finally reaches the bar, he is buzzing with excitement. The band has offered him a gig the following day, and if that goes well, then he can join them permanently. I feel so pleased for my new friend; this is clearly important to him and it’s something he’s good at. On impulse, I promise to go and watch them to offer my support.

I can tell by watching Chris that he’s a popular guy. People readily approach him to chat about music, they buy him drinks and a few girls try and get his number. By the end of the evening he’s a little drunk and I have to help him back to his apartment. He lives off campus in a small one room apartment. It’s clean but cramped. He must have moved in a while ago as he’s already unpacked and stored all his belongings. The decor is a bit dingy but he’s cheered it up with band posters and his bed is covered in an amazing quilt. It appears to be made from lots of t-shirts and I want to as him about it but I’m not sure I’ll get a coherent answer out of him. I help him undress and then I tuck him in. He’s snoring before I even reach the door. It’s a short walk back to my dorm, but it’s dark and late, and there’s no one around, so as I walk back I find myself thinking about Jared again. He disappeared in broad daylight, when there were lots of people around. If it had been nighttime maybe I could understand it better; maybe I wouldn’t have hoped for so long that it was all some kind of mistake.

I look around at the street I’m on, at the buildings I’m passing. I’m not nervous, but I do wonder what it would be like to just vanish -- to be here one moment and then cease to exist the next. What would happen then? who would miss me; who would search for me; and who would mourn me? 

Then I slap myself metaphorically, to stop that train of thought. I force myself to just enjoy the balmy evening.

_That night I dream of him again. He is always walking away from me, off into the hazy distance. He’s going to disappear again—he always disappears. This time he turns, looking back at me. He’s so far away, but I can see his face as if he were right in front of me. His mouth is open as if he’s screaming. His eyes are dead, sunken into his skull._

Then I’m awake, sweating and shaking, and I know I won’t sleep again tonight. Sometimes, dreaming about Jared is a comfort but at other times, times like this, it can be torture.

I have things I could be doing, and since sleep isn’t an option, I get up and organize my room, moving and arranging things until the sun is up and I can phone my mom. I’d phoned her when I arrived, but I should have phoned her yesterday after my first day of classes. She’s pleased to hear from me, and we chat about my courses. She asks about the people I’ve met, and I know she’s hoping I’ll be making lots of friends, so I tell her about Chris and the band. She seems genuinely happy for me, and I’m glad I rang and put her mind at rest. I’ve caused her enough worries over the past few years.

After that, my first few weeks of college is a blur. There’s no easing in period in Pre-Law; essays and readings are assigned the first week. Eventually things settle down and ease off. I’m grateful for the work as it keeps my mind off other things. Things such as how much Jared would have loved it here, the bustle and vibrancy of the college and the beauty of San Francisco. I still miss him and when I saw the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time I wanted to turn to Jared and see his face, I know he would have been as awestruck as I was. It’s funny that sometimes it’s the little things that spark my longing for him like when I received a good mark for my first essay I desperately wanted to call and tell him. I wonder if that need will ever go away.

Chris is a great success with the band. He is invited to join permanently and so I become a sort of honorary member, too. We spend more time with Jeff, nothing improper , just three guys hanging out, but I think Jeff is interested in me. He smiles at me in a way that makes my stomach flip, and sometimes our eyes lock and it feels as passionate as a kiss. I’m not one hundred percent sure though. I find myself analyzing and counter-analyzing things he said and did. I watch him as he lectures, his presence is demanding. He covers the floor with so much energy it makes him seem much bigger than he really is. I notice little things about him, the way his eyes crinkle when he’s trying not to laugh and the way his dimples deepen when he does. In some ways he reminds me of Jared, huge and kind and funny. I know that should probably make me feel awkward but it doesn’t, somehow it comforts me. My crush on my professor is getting out of hand, I feel like I’m turning into a teenage girl, just yesterday he caught my eye and I blushed, I’m a man in my mid-twenties and I actually blushed! 

When Professor Blaylock returns from maternity leave Jeff asks me out on a date, so I was right about Jeff’s interest in me. Although I’m really scared, I agree to go out with him. Just him and me. Jeff is taking me to a restaurant he knows. Now I have to decide what to wear. The last time I went on a date Jared and I went to see Spiderman 2 and after the movie we went to the local diner and had burgers. I think this date may be a little different, for one thing Jared and I never ‘dressed up‘ for our dates and I’m starting to panic that I don’t have anything to wear. Rifling through my wardrobe, choosing then discarding pants and shirts I can feel a faint sheen of sweat breaking out on my upper lip, so I take a deep breath and calm down. Jeff said to dress casual so I need to decide between jeans and slacks. Now I wear jeans all the time and I want tonight to be special so slacks it is, I pull out a pair of black slacks and a moss green button-down shirt. A quick shower later and I’m dressed. I even wore my best black boxer briefs. Not because I’m planning on anyone but me seeing them, it’s just that it wouldn’t feel right to be all dressed up and be wearing old underwear. 

We meet for dinner at the small restaurant and Jeff looks gorgeous. The restaurant is bathed in candlelight, and the golden glow catches his skin perfectly, reflecting in his deep brown eyes, and I know this sounds like romantic drivel, but I could genuinely get lost in those eyes. He is attentive, and entertaining, and I imagine that this is what an adult relationship is like.

Jared and I… We loved each other, but we were teenage boys. There were lots of fart jokes, and wrestling matches, and watching gory horror movies in his parents’ house. It was great but this, being here with Jeff and being the center of his attention? This is wonderful, too, because Jeff treats me like an adult.

I’ve been to enough therapists, (thanks to my overprotective mother) and spent enough time surviving dark, endless nights, to realize that the day Jared disappeared was the day my emotional growth stopped or at least was seriously retarded. 

Over an incredible baked zucchini, Jeff tells me he’s going to be taking a few guest lectures and, hallelujah, he’s going to be staying in Palo Alto writing a book. Part of me is surprised at my reaction to his news, surprised that I want this thing, whatever it is, to build and grow. He’s so good looking I want to reach out and touch his skin, but I don’t. He smiles at me and my stomach flips, I think he realizes the impact he’s having on me because his eyes darken. I feel desire for the first time in forever and looking at Jeff I’m pretty sure it’s reciprocated. 

“Do you wanna get out of here, Sweetheart?” he asks. The way he says it, and the little pet name, makes my skin itch, as if it’s suddenly too small to contain me. I want him to kiss me, and looking at him, I know he will.

He suggests going to his house, which is close, and I agree without a second thought. All I can think of is that I want to feel his lips, his hands on me. Jeff takes my hand and it’s like a burst of electricity runs from him into me, my breath catches at the connection. He gently rubs his thumb over my wrist as we walk through the warm evening to a small, tidy street, with small, tidy houses. Jeff’s is a wooden house, a freshly painted two story, the garden is neat and smells of night blooming jasmine. The short journey was spent in silence, but not the awkward, I have no idea what to say silence. It was more the I feel like I’ve know you forever, comfortable type of silence. I couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to, I was too aware of Jeff’s hand, warm and firm in mine. The frissons of desire that were wending their way about my body were both vaguely familiar and terrifyingly new. He leads me up the path in silence, our desire is almost tangible, huge and overbearing. I want his hands on me. Hell I need them.

He opens the door and I get my wish

He turns and winds an arm round my neck, pulling me towards him, and then his lips are on mine, gentle at first then increasing in intensity. I part my lips slightly and I can taste him, musky and dark and addictive. It’s been so long since anyone kissed me with more than filial affection that I’m lost to it. I can hear stuttered breathing and breathy moans, and it takes me a while to realize that it’s me making those sounds. Jeff smirks a little and I should be embarrassed but then his mouth is on mine again and that’s all I care about.

Jeff is moving backwards down the hall. He takes me with him, not removing his lips from mine until we reach the stairs. I’m hard and aching in my slacks, and I can feel that Jeff is, too. We try to climb the stairs still locked together but we stumble over each other. One moment my feet are on the stairs the next Jeff has hoisted me up so I wrap my legs around him my dick rubbing against his as he carries me up the stairs. I kiss his neck as we go, and he groans, dark and feral, which makes my stomach lurch in turn. He puts me down at the top of the stairs, his hands at the button on my pants. 

The house is quiet apart from our ragged breathing and my moans. When we finally arrive at Jeff’s room, he already has my pants undone, He gives them a little push, and they pool around my ankles. I’m glad I didn’t wear the tight ones. He pushes me onto the bed. I chuckle at the absurdity of it. I had forgotten how much fun sex could be. I watch him remove his shirt, and his body is wonderful. He isn’t gym built, but he is muscular with a patch of hair in the middle of his chest that I can see myself licking. With a groan of anticipation, remove my shoes, kick my pants the rest of the way off. Then I pull down my underpants. When I look up, Jeff is removing his trousers and underwear together in one sweeping motion. He is erect. His penis is standing proud from the thicket of hair around its base. I can’t wait to taste it. I even lick my lips.

I’m naked apart from my t shirt, which feels vaguely ridiculous, so I pull it over my head. Jeff pounces on me, pushing me over until I’m on my back with him cradled between my legs. Our erections rub together, causing both of us to groan at the wonderful sensation. Then his mouth is on mine, insistent and demanding, and that’s wonderful, too. 

I’m not going to compare, I’m not, but I’ve never been kissed in such a demanding way before. Jeff is wringing such sounds out of me, sounds of desperation and need. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d be embarrassed. 

His hands are everywhere, caressing me everywhere, and it sends electric jolts through my body. His mouth leaves mine to nuzzle at my neck, even as his hand grasps my cock and takes my breath away. He’s such a confident lover; there’s no hesitation, no awkward pauses. 

I don’t want to compare, but it’s inevitable. When Jared and I made love for the first time, it was the tentative fumbling of two virgins--hot, sweet, and desperately wonderful. The way Jeff is playing my body? There is no comparison. 

My hands move over his body, restless and needy. I find his ass. Oh my, it’s muscular and perfect, with just a dusting of downy hairs. I run my hands over it, lightly, barely touching and I hear him inhale sharply. I smile, for the first time this evening I feel his control slip. I increase the pressure of my touch and run my finger along the crease, slipping under to rub his taint. He groans as I move forward and rub his balls before returning to his ass, both hands grabbing a buttock each and pulling him towards me. Then he turns the tables on me. 

He has one hand on my cock the other is rummaging in the bedside drawer, then I hear a snap and cold finger move down my crack honing in on my hole. There’s nothing hesitant about his actions, there’s no asking if I’m okay with this, I’m pretty sure my body is saying yes loud and clear as he penetrates me for the first time. I open my legs wider giving him more access my breath coming in pants now as his lips find mine again.

“So good, so hot,” he breaks off to say. He is muttering words of appreciation as he kisses me and adds a further finger. He’s stretching me for real now, and it’s uncomfortable, but I’m so aroused all I want is him inside me, right now.

“Jeff,’ I whimper. “Please...”

“Sweetheart,” he grumbles, and, God, I love his voice! He has a condom in his hand. Thank goodness he has his wits about him, because I wouldn’t even have considered that. He rips it open with his teeth and slips it on one handed before gathering up my legs. He supports them with his elbows as he positions himself at my entrance. We are eye to eye; his are dark with desire, but I can also see affection there. The sensation of him resting against me, just resting, becomes too much and I moan with need. He gives me a sinful smile as he starts to press into me. 

He’s big, wider than I expected so his entrance is difficult and not pain free, but my need is overwhelming so I relax as best I can and let the sensations take over me. Jeff helps me; stroking my face, kissing my neck, holding still deep inside me until I give him a short nod.  
Jeff dominates me, not in a kinky way, but he is everywhere. Touching, thrusting, kissing and it’s wonderful and awful and I couldn’t live without this, I need him.

I come with a cry, shaking and wrung out. I feel his breath stutter as he follows. Long moments, filled with his murmurs of appreciation and praise, where he just holds himself deep inside. Then he collapses down onto me. His hairy chest tickles my bare one, and his cock is softening within me. Eventually he moves to dispose of the condom, he returns and wipes me down with a washcloth and gathers me to him. I look at the ceiling, concentrating on a small defect I can see in the moonlight, as my breathing returns to normal. However, Jeff’s warmth and the hypnotic effect of his breathing soon lulls me to sleep.

_It’s July and school is over Jared and I are lying on the couch his arms around me, my head on his chest, I can hear his heart beating, slow and steady._

_“I’m starving dude” he moans. He’s always hungry and I tell him so. ‘“I’m going through a growth spurt,” he says bashfully. That`s true as well. We used to be the same height, but in the last year he’s sprouted; now he`s a couple of inches taller than me._

_“Do you wanna go to the store and get some snacks?” he asks._

_I’m tired and don’t want to go, it’s been a hard few weeks what with finals and all. The sun is beaming in through the window and I just want to lay here like a cat and soak it up “Let’s just see what my mom has in.’” I suggest._

_He gives me a sad look ‘“I want a donut,’” he wheedles, giving me his saddest eyes_

_I really don’t want to leave the comfort of the couch. “Jared,” I say…_ and everything goes blurry and I can feel my heart thumping so hard in my chest.  
I’m in a bed, I realize, and I can feel warmth next to me. 

It must be Jared wrapped round me, which confuses me as we rarely sleep together as we don’t want our parents finding out yet. I don’t remember going to sleep. 

I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach; acid roiling, as if I’ve forgotten something really important. I turn over to tell Jared he has to get up and sneak out before my mom comes in. I open my eyes, and lose my breath. 

The man holding me isn’t my boyfriend. 

I shriek and struggle from his grasp. . I can’t breathe. I fall backwards onto the floor and notice that I’m naked, and my ass hurts in a distinctive way, but it’s not Jared in bed with me. He’s old, he must be in his thirties and I’m only in my teens.

I can see sparkles in the air, but darkness tinges the edges of my vision. My chest hurts and I’m panting, I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. I start to shiver.

Where’s Jared?

The man is reaching his hand out to me and saying my name over and over again. He seems almost as panicked as I am. 

I crab walk backwards across the room; a room I don’t recognize. “Stay away,” I manage to gasp.

He puts his hands up in a surrender motion, so I grasp my knees and rest my head on them, closing my eyes as I try and calm my breathing down. It doesn’t help. I have no idea what’s happening or where I am. Vaguely, I can hear the man talking on the phone but it miles away. Everything fades into the distance, and when I lose consciousness it’s almost welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

 

I come back to consciousness in fits and starts. Fragments of memories dance in my head, some make me happy, others scare me.

As I open my eyes, my first thoughts are of that man, the one that must have raped me. I can’t remember the events leading up to it, and the blank in my memory is really frightening. I’m in a small room I recognize easily. It’s a hospital room. My mom is sitting next to my bed, but she jumps up when she notices me stirring. She looks tired and old. I’ve caused her this worry, I think regretfully.

She takes my hand and murmurs, “You’re okay baby. Everything’s okay.”

I try to smile, but I’m feeling so helpless. “Where’s Jared” I say. It’s the first thing that comes into my head. He should be here; he’s always there when I need him. I look at my mom, expecting her to say he’s out in the hall or off getting food, but she flinches and I dread crawls around in my stomach.

“I’m just going to go and get the doctor,” she says and rushes from the room before I can question her further. What’s going on? My chest feels tight and suddenly it’s difficult to breathe. I need Jared. Mom quickly returns with a small, portly man that I assume is the doctor as he’s wearing a white coat He leans over the bed, takes hold of my face, and shines a light into my eyes.

Humming, he pulls up a chair. “Well, young man, you’ve given your mom quite a scare.” His words just add to my confusion. My expression must reflect that because then he asks “What were you doing yesterday?” 

I try to think back, but there’s a big blank, as if someone removed part of my brain. I shake my head, afraid to speak as if putting voice to the words would make it reality. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

I smile because that’s easy: “I was lying on the couch with Jared, and he wanted to go get some snacks from the market,” I start confidently, but when I try to remember what happened next, it’s blank. I look at my mom; she’s crying. “Where’s Jared?” I ask agitated, and that just seems to upset my mom even more.

“What year is it?” the doctor asks. 

I look at him blankly. “1999?” I say, though I word it as a question, because everyone is freaking me out. First of all waking up naked in some strangers bed, and now my mom and this doctor, and _where the hell is Jared?_ Is he pissed because of the old guy? Surely he knows it wasn’t consensual; it couldn’t have been, because I’d never be unfaithful to Jared. I just wouldn’t do it.

The doctor is looking at me with professional concern, and I realize I’m hyperventilating. Before I can calm myself down, he gives me a shot and it’s like being embraced by a warm, fuzzy blanket. All my worries disappear and I float off.

The next time I wake it’s in the same room. I don’t know if it’s the same day or a new one. My mom is watching me worriedly. That kick-starts the fear, and I start to think my default setting is blind panic.

Where the hell is Jared? He always makes everything alright. 

When I fluff a test he talks to me until I’ve put it into perspective. The time I broke my mom’s favorite ornament, he took the blame—not that I appreciated that much. He always cheers me up or calms me down. He’s my rock and I need him. So why, when I mention his name, does my mom gets this weird look on her face? I don’t ask, I’m afraid of the answer. I’m wondering whether my mom has found out about us. Maybe she doesn’t approve and is trying to keep us apart. 

I try to sit up, feeling rubbery and unreal. My mom moves over and props up my pillows. There are questions in her eyes but she doesn’t voice them and I’m grateful. 

“When can I get out of here?” I ask. Once I’m out of hospital, I can sneak over to Jared’s.

“I think the doctor wants you to stay in for a few days,” she hedges, looking uncomfortable--almost as if she’s lying.

 

“Why am I here?” I ask softly. I think I have a right to know that much. Is it because of the old guy, I think but don’t ask out loud. It’s clear that he had sex with me, my rear end is still uncomfortable, but I don’t feel abused. I was shocked to wake up with him, but I don’t feel fear or disgust when I think of him.

Maybe I got drunk and slept with him? Maybe that’s why Jared isn’t here. It seems unlikely I’ve only gotten drunk once. Jared persuaded his brother to buy us beer and we drank it down by the lake. I remember looking at Jared that night and thinking he was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. We laughed so much and then we touched, finally he made love to me with the stars twinkling overhead and the alcohol sensitizing every nerve. I enjoyed that night but did not appreciate the next day at all. My head pounded and my stomach roiled and I decided then and there that drinking wasn’t for me.

“You’re here because you’re having trouble with your memory,” my mom says.

That’s true; I do have a gap. It’s looking more likely that I did drink too much. I’d blame drugs, except I don’t do them. Although I could’ve been roofied…  
“The old guy...” I start.

“Jeff?” she replies, looking at me strangely.

“Did he...did he rape me?”

She flinches again and then shakes her head. “No honey, it was just a...” She sighs. “Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.” She pats my hand in reassurance. She looks so sad, and old. When did my mom get so old? She must be working too hard again. 

I want to ask more questions, but she looks so unhappy that I don’t. Hopefully, with time my memory will come back.

The doctor comes in and gives me a small paper cup. There are three brightly colored pills in it. One of them looks like Xanax. How do I know what Xanax looks like? Maybe I saw it in a movie, or one of my friends… Then I remember that my mind is playing tricks on me, so I just pour the pills into my mouth and swallow them with the water. Hopefully they’ll help. 

Minutes later, I’m already feeling more relaxed. I’m less worried about what I can’t remember. I’m less worried that there’s something at the back of my mind, niggling at me. I’m less worried about everything, so I close my eyes and let myself drift. I can hear my mom and the doctor talking, an annoying buzz in the distance. I can make out some words, but they don’t make any sense. My mom says something about me not remembering Jared, but that’s rubbish: I remember everything about him.

I remember the way he was such a skinny, gangly boy one summer, and the next he was a gridiron god. I remember how he could make me laugh; we would spend hours joking and laughing, then when our relationship changed, we would spend those hours kissing and touching. 

Yeah, they don’t know what they’re talking about. I remember everything about Jared.

 _Mmm, Jared’s touching me. He’s kissing the spot on my neck that sends shivers over my whole body. His breath is tickling the fine hairs adding another level to the stimulation. His fingers lightly graze my arm, and I turn my head searching for his lips. Suddenly, I feel cold as if he’s moved away from me…_ I open my eyes, and I’m alone in the same hospital bed with that same awful feeling that something is missing, or that I’m missing something.  
“Back with us?” my mother smiles. “The doctor says you can get up today. Maybe meet with some of the other patients.”

“When can I leave, and where’s...” before I can finish the sentence the look on my mom’s face stops me. She looks haunted, so I literally bite my tongue until I can think of something else to say. “I’d love to have a shower.” I say, and I manage to smile at her. Her responding smile is so blinding, I’m glad I didn’t finish my question.

I still feel dizzy so my mom helps me to the shower. I’m only wearing the ubiquitous hospital gown and it doesn’t do much to protect my dignity. 

“I’ve seen it all before” my mom says as she sits me on the closed toilet and fiddles with the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. There’s a handy seat in the shower so I shoo my mom out and revel in the steamy atmosphere before I step tentatively under the water. The water temperature is perfect and as the water flows over my body I feel it wash away some of my tension. The warmth relaxing muscles that I hadn’t realized were tense. After minutes of just sitting under the flow I reach for the shower gel and soap myself up. Washing everywhere taking special care of my still throbbing ass. The smell of the gel is fresh and clean and reminds me of spring days, like sunshine and fruit. As the water washes away the soapy residue I feel cleansed and refreshed. I allow myself a few more minutes of indulgence before I leave the shower, careful of how the slippery the tiled floor is. Drying myself briskly is also invigorating and I do feel better after the shower, and it’s more than just physically clean: I don’t feel worried anymore. That little niggle that was haunting me is gone, and I feel refreshed and happy. 

My mom guides me down to the rec room. I’m wearing some pajamas that my mom produced from somewhere so it’s a bit embarrassing. But they’re a million times better than the hospital gown. And when I get there, everyone else is wearing them, so I don’t feel so bad. Except…

There’s a guy in the corner banging his head against the wall. One of the nurses is trying to get him to stop, but he just keeps doing it. Over there are a couple people holding themselves and rocking, rocking. It’s familiar and disturbing. A young man walks by me and flashes a smile in my direction. 

“Are you St Patrick” he asks earnestly

I shake my head and he moves on. 

A couple orderlies come and take the head-banger away. 

I stop where I am, forcing my mother to stop with me. “Mom,” I ask. “What kind of hospital is this?” 

“It’s St. Elizabeth’s,” she replies. 

I’ve never heard of that hospital and my confusion must show in my eyes,  
”It’s a small, private hospital,” she says soothingly, as if that answered my question.

“Is this a mental hospital?” I manage to choke out. 

She looks uncomfortable and embarrassed, but she nods. “You’ve been under a lot of stress recently, and it’s more of a retreat than a hospital,” she says in justification. But when she looks around, I think she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

“Mom” I start to say but her mouth is a tight line and the pain in her eyes stops me. I want to tell her that I don’t need this, that I’m fine. I know in my heart that my mom would only want the best for me. She wouldn’t have agreed to this unless she was convinced I need it. I find suddenly that I don’t have the energy to argue. All the good feelings caused by the shower are dissolving away.

I don’t know if I have been stressed recently, but something must have happened, there’s the blank space in my head and that’s definitely not normal. I’m not going to fight this, I’m going to be good and get out of here as soon as possible then they won’t be able to keep Jared and me apart.

Time passes slowly in St. Elizabeth’s. There are group meetings as well as individual therapies, but they’re about the only things that break up the monotony. A few of the other patients occasionally cause scenes, the head-banger more often than not. I shrink away from them, I find it embarrassing and not a little disturbing. I’m allowed outside to sit in the high-fenced grounds, so I do that as often as the weather allows. They are really quite pretty. Someone spent a lot of time on the garden. There’s bushes and shrubs and bedding plants which I imagine would be quite the riot of color once they are in bloom. At the moment everything is dormant, awaiting the spring. I feel like they are a mirror for me, I’m dormant too, I’m just not sure what I am waiting for. The garden smells of mulch and decaying leaves, it’s the scent of winter. It’s much more pleasant than the medicinal pall that hangs inside. 

I haven’t made any friends. Well, there was one guy, Charlie, but he kept hurting himself so they sent him to a proper psychiatric ward. I only found out when I went to look for him one morning, so to me, it was like he’d just disappeared. I ran from room to room looking for him. My breathing was harsh and ragged as I opened door after door. I couldn’t find him and my vision was blurring. Two nurses grabbed me, trying to stop me but I couldn’t. The need to see Charlie, to know he was okay was overwhelming. I don’t really understand why it was so important to me. I hadn’t know him long and had we met outside of this place I don’t even know whether we would have clicked. Eventually the nurses had to manhandle me and the doctor gave me an injection. After that I kept to myself. 

I watch as life goes on in the hospital, there are therapies, and visitors and always the brightly colored pills. I tell the doctors and the therapist that I don’t feel panicky or stressed anymore, but they won’t let me go. I ask why, but they hum and shuffle, and give vague assurances. 

I still get a cup of pills twice a day. I wish I didn’t have to take them, because they make me feel fuzzy, and my mouth is always dry and tastes like crap. The food here is bland and looks awful. It’s like eating cardboard, I don’t know if it’s because the food is genuinely that bad or because of my medication. They don’t let me have coffee, I swear that I would feel so much better if they did. But they just mutter something about it being a stimulant and not agreeing with my medications.

The worst thing is the dreams; I dream about Jared all the time. I can’t always remember my dreams, but I often wake up crying. I think he may have dumped me, and my mom’s too scared to tell me. He wouldn’t have waited this long to see me, otherwise.

“Hey, Jensen,” says Doctor Butcher. He’s nice enough. I don’t mind my sessions with him. He’s a grizzly, older man. He looks nothing like a doctor, he looks like he should be living out in the wilds in a cabin. But he’s patient and I don’t feel like he is trying to trip me up. He seems to sincerely want to help me. 

“Hey, Doc,” I say cheekily, trying to show him I’m normal now, but he just smiles blandly at me.

His room is utilitarian, painted cream like most of the hospital. The furniture is old and battered but the chair that I sit in is comfortable, well padded and moulds to my body. He has tried to personalize the room, there’s a blanket thrown over the couch, with a bold Aztec print. Two oil paintings adorn the walls. One of a lake surrounded by overhanging trees, it’s both serene and slightly sinister. The other is a woodland scene, a small clearing within a forest. The floor of the clearing is full of wild flowers and the sun is breaking through the canopy above. It’s beautiful and my eyes are always drawn to it. The flowers almost look like they’re dancing. 

“I painted that” Doctor Butcher says a wistful smile crossing his face.

“It’s beautiful.” and it is

He nods, “It was a place I visited up in New England once on vacation, it was one of the most peaceful places I have ever been”

He opens his notes and bites his lip unconsciously as he quickly scans them.

“How’ve you been doing?” he asks—the routine question. “Can you remember anything else?’” This one is specific to me. I just shake my head. “Are you still having the dreams?”

This time I nod. “They still don’t seem like dreams,” I say. “I mean, I know they’re dreams, but…”

“What do you dream about?” 

“My boyfriend, Jared,” I say with an easy smile. 

“They’re good dreams?” Dr. Butcher asks.

“Mostly,” I answer. ”But sometimes… Sometimes they’re really sad.”

“Sad in what way?” he asks, his voice soothing.

I don’t even have to think about it because it’s the same dream, but I still can’t look at him while I describe it. “It’s like I’m watching a movie. I see me and Jared on the couch—it’s the couch at my house, in my basement. We’re having an argument; it’s just a silly argument.” My voice catches.“And then he goes to the market and he never comes back.” I rush through the end of the story.

“It’s silly isn’t it? It’s just a stupid dream.” I’m not sure if I’m telling or asking.

The doctor looks at me, his eyes full of sympathy, and I feel my heart stutter in my chest. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. And I’m going to be sick.

I rush to the bathroom across the hall and only just make it in time to throw up my lunch.

Dr. Butcher’s there in the cubicle. I know because he rubs my back. I’m too busy revisiting my lunch, which wasn’t that great the first time round. I wretch until my stomach hurts and my throat burns. I wretch until there’s nothing more to bring up. And then it’s done. I sit back on my haunches, and wipe my mouth with my hand. It’s shaking, like the rest of my body, because I’m remembering.

I look up at Doctor Butcher and I know that he knew. He knew, they all knew and that’s why they looked at me like that, the looks of pity. Jared is gone, and I’m probably never going to see him again. And Jeff… Oh God, Jeff! The horror of it all comes to me. I accused him of rape. 

I cover my eyes and try to disappear.

_The day Jared disappeared we had a small argument. It was silly. He wanted to go for snacks, and I was feeling too lazy, so he stormed out and went to the market. The last thing I said to him was, “Oh for God’s sake, you’re always eating!”_

_What a stupid last thing to say to anyone. I’ll always have to live with the fact that he was pissed at me when he left, and that I said that stupid, shitty thing to him._

_He arrived at the market; he bought a box of Twinkies, some chips , a donut and a coke. I’ve seen the video footage. Several cameras caught him leaving the store, walking in the direction of home, but he never arrived._

_A few people passed him, and they remembered him, but no one knew what happened. They found the snack foods in an alley off Wentworth, 600 meters from his home. A Twinkie was half eaten. They did a DNA test on it, and it was Jared’s. He’d been eating the snacks that he’d wanted, but he didn’t finish them, and we don’t know why. I wish he’s stayed home with me, I wish I’d gone with him. I wish he was here with me now. He’s gone and all because he wanted some snacks._

_In the six years since his disappearance, he has never used his ATM card or cell phone, he’s never been caught on video, or ever contacted any relatives. He literally disappeared without a trace._


	4. Chapter 4

 

It takes a couple days before the doctors are satisfied that I have my memory back. It takes another week after that to satisfy them that I’m not going to harm myself. Then they let me go home, not back to college, of course, but back home with my mom, where there’ll be someone to watch out for me. Twenty-four years old, and she still has to babysit me. 

My dad didn’t visit me while I was in hospital. He’s got a new family now, I know that hurts my mom. He has a new, younger wife, Sarah and a two year old son and another baby on the way. The pregnancy isn’t going well and that’s why he couldn’t come to California to visit me. I don’t mind, we never really have a lot to say to each other. He drops by when I get home. He’s bought me a new games console. He’s all smiles as he tells me it’s to keep me entertained. I don’t really play computer games. I guess my dad doesn’t really know me anymore. It’s not surprising he’s been pulling away from me for years.  
I don’t call him on it. I just smile my thanks and don’t bother to talk to him anymore. I think that just makes him feel relieved.

He and Mom talk for a bit in low voices. It’s about me, or maybe it’s about them. Mom wanted him to stay, and I think a part of her still wants him back. It’s not going to happen and she knows it. Then he rushes off to his new and improved family and finally it’s just Mom and me.

The next person to visit, and talk in low whispering voices, is Mom’s boss, Anders. Mom works as a clerk for a local lawyer, and I know he’s been good to her, I think he may be sweet on her, and at least he’s a decent guy. Unfortunately, she can only have so much time off. He’s got work piling up, and she has bills to pay. 

“So Donna” I overhear, his voice is louder now “Can I expect you back at work tomorrow?”

I’m surprised when I feel my stomach tighten at the thought of being alone. They continue talking for a bit and small fragments of the conversation reach me. Anders complains about the backlog of work, he doesn’t sound recriminating and that relaxes me a bit. I don’t want to cause my mom any further trouble. 

I hear the front door close and then my mom is knocking at my door. 

“Hey” I say as she lets herself in. She looks uncomfortable, her face contorted into a frown I can see she’s worried about leaving me alone.

“It’s… I’ve had so much time off all ready.”

“So you can take care of your ‘delicate’ son, right?” I sneer before I can check myself.

“Don’t say that,” Mom snaps, “Like you’re a burden. You’re not.”

That’s what she says, but she’s shaking. I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry I’m such a problem son,” I whisper. I can feel tears welling in my eyes. I go to pull her closer. She pulls back and hits me in the chest. Not hard, but enough that I take a step back in shock.

“I love you, which means you’re not a problem, you’re just a dumbass.” She manages to chuckle, but I can see her eyes are wet, too. “We’re going to be alright, Jensen. Both of us.” She’s fierce in her belief, like an Amazon. Her confidence is resolute and makes me feel better than I have since I woke up in hospital.  
The next day my mom gets up early and although I consider staying in bed I get up with her and we have breakfast together. 

“You have my work number?” I nod as I have a mouthful of cereal. “and the Doctor’s?” I give her a sharp look “Just in case” she placates.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” 

This is a harder one to answer. “Yes, Mom, I promise to keep out of trouble.” 

“I’m not worried about you getting into trouble,” she says. “I’m worried about you over- thinking again.” There’s enough truth in that to make me chuckle.

“I can always play video games” I waggle my eyebrows at her, she knows how much I detest them “they’re mind numbing enough to stop me thinking”

I promise to do the dishes and she rewards me with a kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll bring home something for supper,” she says as she leaves.

I’m alone for the first time in ages and it feels good. 

I rinse and stack the dishes in the dishwasher. If Mom has to work all day the least I can do is pull my weight around the house.

I wander back into the kitchen to keep my promise. Mom said I wasn’t a burden, but I will be if I just lay upstairs all day like I have been. That’s what I did before I went to college. The last few weeks haven’t been great but before that I did go to college, I made friends, I got a boyfriend (almost), and had sex for the first time in ages. I also lost the plot, had a complete breakdown, and ended up in hospital. Now I’m a college dropout with a history of mental illness

Go me! 

Still, I’m not going to ‘revel in misery’, as one of the more jerk-ish doctors at St. Elizabeth said. I’m going to make a plan; sort out my life and get things back on track. There’s been more than enough wallowing--it’s time for action.

I sit down at the kitchen table with coffee, pen, and a blank sheet of paper. By lunch time, my plan goes like this:

1\. Write an apology to Jeff (there’s no way I can look him in the eye to do it in person).  
2\. Phone Chris.  
3\. Get a job, any job.  
4\. Take a part-time college course  
5\. Decide what college course to do. (maybe I should swap these two around)

That’ll do for starters, I think. Just five tasks. It’s good to break things down, now I can tackle one task at a time. But first things first. I walk to the local market to get ice cream and the local paper. Of course, it’s the one Jared visited just before he disappeared. It’s the one we always went to because it had the best selection. I haven’t been there to shop for six years, but I’m through letting that incident inform the whole of my life. 

As I open the door and the bell jingles I can feel a shudder course through my body. Everything looks the same. The magazine rack, with the ‘dirty’ ones hidden high on top. Jared and I would try to sneak a peak when Mr Singh, the proprietor wasn’t looking. The hot food cabinet in the corner filled with warm pretzels. The coffee machine that used to be my lifeline. Jared knew better than to try and keep me from my caffeine fix. It’s all so familiar and yet also so different. 

“Jensen!” Mr. Singh says in his lightly accented voice. “It’s so good to see you.” He’s smiling so broadly I actually believe him. When Jared first disappeared, I hung out here all the time, plying Mr. Singh for information, watching and rewatching the security videos, watching the customers in case anyone looked shady. It must have been a nightmare for him, but he was unfailingly kind. Eventually, it all got a bit too painful. Seeing Jared in those videos, time and again. He was frozen in that one day, always smiling at Mr. Singh, always buying the same snacks. And the customers looked at me with such concern and sympathy I couldn’t take it anymore. One day, about a year after, I left the shop and never returned. I hope this visit today is the first of many.

“It’s good to see you too Mr. Singh,” I say in a voice that’s mostly steady. “How’s business?” I pick up the local paper, along with my snacks.

“Not so good,” he sighs as he rings up my purchase. ”The economy,” he gestures. I nod understandingly, and manage some small talk in return before I have to get out of there. I feel like I’m on sensory overload. Everything feels too bright, too loud and being here again is just too much.

“I’ll see you around.” I wave as I leave, and hope I wasn’t lying. 

I trawl through the job section when I get home, I have no idea what I want to do with my life now, but I know I want a job. Mom says I can go back to Berkeley, that the administration are happy for me to do so. But I can’t face that, I can’t face him. 

There aren’t a whole lot of vacancies that I have enough experience for, but there are a couple of restaurants that want waiters. So I give them a call.

“Good afternoon, The Mission my name is Jada, how can I help” the voice sounds nice, friendly. 

“I’m phoning about the waiting job”

“Cool, we’re getting pretty desperate” the girl, Jada, laughs “I’ll put you through to “Dom, he’s the owner” before I can respond I’m put on hold and I listen to a poppy song . Some young man is singing about lost love to a dance beat. It’s a bit jarring. 

“Hello, I understand you’re calling about the job” the song is interrupted by a booming voice. 

“Yes I am” he interrupts me which is just as well because I was just about to ramble on about how I don’t have any experience.

“That’s good, so have you ever waited before?”

“No” I admit “but I’m a quick study and if you give me a chance I’ll work really hard” I rush out the words, barely drawing breath.

“Well” says Dom “my name’s Dominic but you can call me Dom, what’s your name?”

I tell him and go on to tell him that I went to college and that it didn’t work out. I don’t mention my breakdown and I feel a little guilty about that. 

“Jensen, I have to be honest with you, we’re desperate, can you start tonight?” and I can feel a genuine grin break out on my face.

“Yes I can, thank you Dom.” I’m going to make sure he doesn’t regret hiring me. 

Maybe waiting isn’t the career I had planned for myself, but my life has taken some unexpected turns. Besides, it’s a job and that’s what I need.

I consider trying to write my apology to Jeff, but my stomach lurches at the thought, so I give myself a break. After all, I’ve achieved more than I expected today by crossing number three off my list, and I can work on four and five while I eat.

I wander into the kitchen and fix myself a sandwich. My Macbook is on the side so I fire it up. I check out the prospectuses of local colleges. None of them are on the same level as Berkeley, of course, but I’d enjoyed the bit of Pre-Law I’d taken. Since I have no idea what I want to do, now that I’m not in Berkeley anymore, I sign up for a Criminal Justice course. 

 

Wiping my mouth, I feel incredibly pleased with myself. that’s three off the list now. Soon, I’ll need a new list..  
Grabbing my phone, I decide to take care of another one. I scroll to Chris’ name My mom said Chris had tried to see me while I was in the hospital, but the doctor thought it might make things worse. I kept meaning to phone him from St. Elizabeth’s, but I lost my nerve before I’d done more than pick up the receiver. However, I’m on a roll today, and although my heart is beating a wild tattoo, I let my thumb press the ‘call’ button. My stomach’s hovering somewhere around my collar bone, but I hold on while it rings.

“’Lo?” My whole body flushes with warmth at hearing his voice. I can’t speak.

“Jensen?” He must have checked caller display. ”That you man?”

“Chris,” I manage, and then he laughs.

“Jensen! Jesus-fucking-Christ! Oh God, man. It’s so good to hear your voice. We’ve been so worried. When are you coming back? The college has held your room...” 

“Chris,” I hesitate. “I’m not coming back...not this year anyway.” The line goes quiet; Chris’ laughter silenced.

“Oh no, man, you can’t just leave.” His voice is plaintive, as if he’s truly disappointed, as if he’d missed me.

“I need to get myself straight.” And it’s true, I do, “I thought I was good, but I wasn’t. Still, I’m making inroads,” I tell him, and that’s also true--only a week out of the hospital and I’ve already got a job, I’m registered in college—again.

“Yeah, I guess I can understand that. You know, Jensen, nobody holds it against you. I mean, nobody knew about...well, you know.” I can hear Chris rubbing the stubble on his chin. I wonder abstractly whether the ‘nobody’ that he’s referring to is Jeff. 

Yeah, I do know. I don’t want to talk about it though, so I sidestep. “Chris, I’m sorry. I’m going to stay here for a while, and get back on track. Jeff…” I sigh. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk to his psycho one night stand.”  
“Jensen, You’re doing him a disservice, man, “ Chris interjects. “He’s been so worried about you. He actually blames himself, and he’s been a mess.”

I hadn’t realized that Jeff blamed himself and it makes me feel so much worse. I have to swallow before I can say anything more. “I’m so sorry, Chris,” I mutter. “But I don’t think I can talk to him, not yet. If I write to him will you give him the letter?”

Chris moans, “Jensen, man. It would be so much better if you just spoke to the guy, really.”

 

I clench my jaw against the sudden desire to cry. This was easier when I though Jeff hated me, or was disgusted by my weakness. Today was going so well and now I feel wrung out,

“Jensen.” I think Chris can feel my distress because his voice his soft, gentle. “It’s okay, man. Send me the letter. I just want you to feel better, you know?”

I manage a little laugh. “Yeah, me too. Listen, I’ll call you again,” I promise, and I hang up quickly, before I can embarrass myself. 

Well, that’s another off the list, but I don’t feel so good about that one. I wish I had the courage and the mental strength to go back to Berkeley. It’s not so much about facing everyone, particularly Jeff, it’s...Oh, I don’t even know. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, I head to my room, fall face-down on the bed, and let myself drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Chapter 5

A year passes, then two, and then another. Before I know it, five years have passed, and I’m 29 years old. I work as a waiter, I have a few college courses under my belt, but I never returned to Berkeley and I never did write that letter of apology to Jeff. That still shames me, actually. I’ve adapted though and my life is good. I have my work, and my colleagues who managed to inveigle themselves into my life and become my friends.

And, at least, I no longer live with my mom.

I have a small apartment, emphasis on small. It’s essentially a dump, but it gives me some independence. My mom has started dating a guy. And I think she’s going to ask him to marry her, if he doesn’t do it first. She’s dating her boss, I knew he was sweet on her and he makes her smile and look carefree. So I definitely approve. Isaac Anders practically lives with her already. It was one of the reasons I moved out. I want to give them their privacy and I especially don’t want to be there if they are having sex... although in my mind, my mom never has sex. 

Generally, I’m doing okay, I think. Even though I still have bad days.

I was walking down the street the other day, and there was this tall guy walking in front of me. This guy had long, wavy hair, wide shoulders, and a happy swagger in his walk, and I got it into my head that it was Jared. Didn’t matter that Jared was never that big -- at least not build wise -- and his hair hadn’t ever been quite that long and floppy. It was just that, from behind, there was something about him that reminded me so much of Jared that I could almost smell the shampoo he’d used. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, Jared’s name already half out of my mouth. Of course, it wasn’t Jared. The guy looked nothing like him; he didn’t have Jared’s exotic eyes, or his moles or dimples.

The pain that had zapped through me when I saw the guy’s blue eyes and heavy jaw was almost organic. For just a few seconds, I’d had something I’d thought I had lost—I’d had hope. 

The guy gave me a strange look. I apologized, telling him he looked like someone I knew He’d actually smiled at me. “I get that a lot, man,” he’d rumbled before carrying on his way. I’d stood there on the street trembling in reaction. It had been years since something like that had happened, and I wondered if it was close to the anniversary of his disappearance, or just my faulty brain making sure I don’t forget. 

In the early days of Jared’s disappearance I saw him everywhere: on the bus, across the street, and in every crowd scene on TV. It was a nightmare both for me and my mom.

 

I visit Jared’s parents on the anniversary. I hadn’t visited for years since I found it more and more difficult being around them. They never gave up hope, always jumping at the ring of a phone, excitement in their eyes. As the years passed that hope faded but never quite left them. They wanted to talk about him all the time and so did I. Being in his house, and seeing his bedroom every time I visited the bathroom was a comfort and a curse. Sometimes I would sneak in there and lie on his bed, inhale his scent until eventually there was nothing left of it. They kept his room exactly the same. Football trophies line the shelves, posters of rock bands long passed their best and photos of us. But the false hopes and the memories drained me and selfishly I started to pull away. 

Walking up the path to the house I feel sweat prickling at my upper lip although the day itself is mild. The familiar front door looks freshly painted and I scrub my hand through my hair as I take a deep breath and knock. There was a time I would just burst through the door yelling hello and head up to Jared’s room. The Padalecki’s said I was like another son, but apparently I was less trouble than the two they already had. 

Mrs Padalecki opens the door. She looks like a pale version of herself. Far older and frailer that she should be. Drawing me in I can see Mr Padalecki coming towards me, he too looks old and drawn. They look like pale versions of how they had been I receive their hugs gratefully and am lead to the couch. The couch is new as is a lot of the furniture in the sitting room, it makes the room look different. But on the wall there are photo’s of all the children. Jeff and Megan’s photos show the progression of them growing up, graduating from school and then college. There are photos of Megan with a tall, dark young man. Then a wedding photo and finally one with them proudly holding a baby.

“That’s our grandson T.J. “ she says, pride shining in her eyes and I don’t even have to ask what the initials stand for, but I do.

“Tristan Jared?” she nods wistfully

“Megan wanted to come down to visit for the ... anniversary” her voice hitches on the last word and I take her hand, she turns and smiles at me. “But she’s expecting her second child and as she’s in her final trimester ...” she tails off and I can see that she’s looking at a photo of Jared. It’s a photo that was taken in their backyard the summer of his disappearance. 

He’s topless, his shirt hanging from his jeans back pocket. I remember the day well. The heat had been stifling but the lawn had needed to be mowed and Jared was never a slacker. The sweat had been dripping off him and I had never seen anything so hot. It trailed down the curves and planes of his torso. His muscles creating the landscape that the little rivulets traversed. I wanted nothing more than to spend time licking the sweat from his body. Jared caught my eye and I could tell he knew what I was thinking as his eyes darkened. Before we could do anything about it Mrs Padalecki came out and took the snap that now adorns her sitting room wall. 

The other photos of Jared are older and he is progressively younger and skinnier in them. But always he is smiling broadly. His warmth showing through the photographic paper, straddling the years.

“ and how’s Jeff” I say dragging my eyes away from Jared.

“ He’s married too, just this last spring” she says a small smile playing on her lips. “They’re expecting their first child just before Christmas”

“Congratulations” I’m glad that they have some good in their lives now, even though it doesn’t make up for their loss. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. I know I have to go past Jared’s room and I can’t help but take a look. It’s still the same. I don’t know whether that makes me happy or sad. They’re having as much trouble letting go as I am. 

When I return from the bathroom the visit progresses and we get to talk about Jared, both his parents keep in contact with the police but even they agree that after eleven years the investigation is most likely on hold. They hired another private eye last year but he couldn’t find anything new and as time passes the thin thread of hope gets more and more flimsy. 

 

I remember when searching for Jared was all consuming, when I used my college fund to finance trips to potential sightings. When I would spend hours poring over any evidence the police or PI found, I remember the time when Jared was my obsession. It wasn’t healthy, but at the time I firmly believed we would find him, that I would be able to apologize to him for being so lazy, that he would kiss me and tell me to stop being such an idiot. He would be smiling, that dazzling smile, all teeth and dimples, so bright it was contagious and I would smile back as he took me into his arms, and it would be like coming home. 

I leave the Padalecki’s, feeling sad, but I expected that.. At least I was strong enough to visit and I’m glad that they have a little happiness in their lives now, with their new grandchildren. 

As I walk down the familiar path I sigh. I want just one more minute with him, to tell him I love him, to hold him and kiss him, to tell him goodbye. I just need closure.

I walk home and take a shower before work. I still wait tables at The Mission, which now has the added bonus of being within walking distance. My lifestyle is simple, I live in a very cheap apartment, I don’t have a car and I don’t own a TV. My mom both despairs of me and worries about me. She thinks I’m doing penance or something, but I’m not, I can’t afford much on my wages and I don’t have a lot of prospects, but then I don’t have many needs either. Plus, I enjoy my work—more than I thought I would. The Mission is in a building that in a previous life was a Spanish mission, which means it is old and quaint and full of character. The nooks and crannies mean there are plenty of secluded tables and so the restaurant is a mecca for dating couples looking for romance and privacy. It helps with the ambience, that the floor is rough hewn stone but it is a potential trip hazard. It keeps us waiters on our toes. It’s great exercise, and as a bonus, I’m usually too tired to do anything other than sleep when my shift is done. 

I get on well with the other staff because they’re nearly all as crazy as I am, although Dominic, our boss, prefers to call us a family. Jada, one of the waitresses, says we should be in a sitcom. Our Maître d’, Mike, calls us ‘eclectic’ or, if pushed, he’ll admit to being eccentric. Mike should know; he looks and acts like he’s the butler on an old English estate. Dominic took me on without any references and has looked after me like a father ever since. He doesn’t own the restaurant himself but has a part share of it. He has a couple of silent partners who I’ve never met. Then there’s Jada and Sarah, two young and pretty waitresses, they do well with tips from the businessmen crowd. Then there’s the chef, Antonio, he can be a bit feisty and when he’s in a mood, we know to keep our heads down, but he’s exceptional and the food is out of this world. 

 

The restaurant is buzzing by the time I arrive and I head to the kitchen to sort out next weeks rotas. Dominic has been giving me more and more responsibility and I love it. After I’ve finished that job and checked on tomorrows purchases I quickly find my section and start taking orders. The dress code here is pretty smart. I’m wearing my black pants and white shirt and my apron is swishing around my knees as I walk. I look over at Jada and Sarah, they are dressed similarly in black skirts, white shirts and matching aprons. We’ve been working together a while, the girls and I, and we work like the cogs of a clock, swerving around each other, zigging and zagging. If they added the right music, it would be like a ballet—or, more accurately, a tango as Spanish music plays in the background, low and sensual. Violins and guitars melding together. We’ve had the odd disaster--feet tripping, food flying, or a drink ending up on a customer’s shirt--but it’s remarkably rare considering the layout. Still, they do happen. But we’re professional enough to not laugh about our screw ups at least not until after the restaurant has closed.

“Did you see that fat dude’s face when I dropped his drink?” Jada snorts. Dominic gives her a glare. It was funny, but I don’t think the customer thought so. The man had been an ass all night, nothing Jada did was right. The food wasn’t hot enough, although it was steaming, the wine was too dry although he had chosen it and the chipotle adobo was too hot. Jada had kept her temper but I could see her becoming more and more harassed. It was as she was rushing back with a new bottle of wine and a cocktail for his date that she tripped and deposited the tequila sunrise into his lap. 

“It was his own fault,” Sarah grumbles to Dominic, defending her fellow server like she always does.

“Cheer up, Dom,” Jada says sweetly. “Besides being an irritating ass, he was a cheap bastard. We’re better off without him.” She’s right, he ordered the cheapest meals on the menu and balked at the price of the wine. Of course he didn’t leave a tip. But even if he hadn’t ended up with a lapful of tequila and orange juice I don’t think he would have put his hand in his pocket to tip the waiting staff. 

“Jada” he finally says. ”Yes, he deserved it. Yes, it was funny, but please don’t drop drinks on any more customers. Okay?” She tries to look suitable abashed, but her smile keeps sneaking through. “Alright! If the guy hadn’t sent back the wine you would never have tripped . It was his own fault. Happy?” he concurs and we all break down, even Antonio, who probably wouldn’t be laughing if it had been his food that had been dropped.

Jada’s smile broadens. “I’m so happy, boss,” she says as she gives him a peck on the cheek., He shakes his head as the girls try desperately not to laugh.. “It’s like being a kindergarten teacher,” he mutters under his breath and leaves. He secretly loves all the attention. 

Mike offers me a lift home. It’s been a busy night and my feet are aching, so I agree. We walk to his ride which is a large saloon car. I don’t know a lot about makes and models of vehicles but this one is big and comfortable and surprisingly clean considering he has two young daughters. I get on well with Mike; he doesn’t judge, and he doesn’t interrupt, which is probably why I told him about Jared and my years looking for him. I even told him a bit about my attempt at college life. Our biggest disagreement is about college. He thinks I gave up too quickly. He thinks I’m wasted as a waiter. He thinks my only problem was too much stress. I haven’t told him about Jeff and my stupid psychotic break. All I tell him is that I like working at The Mission; it makes me feel safe. 

I let him navigate the over-small parking lot before I start talking. ‘I bet you can’t wait for your holiday,” I say. I already know the answer. After all, t hey’ve been saving up for two years to take their daughters to Disney World, and they fly out in two days.

“Too right,” he smiles over at me as he says it. “Susie and Sophie are getting so excited they can’t sleep.” He has a serene smile on his face. It’s clear his family mean the world to him.

“Jensen” he says tentatively. “Don’t you think it’s about time you started dating? Or at least thinking about it?” he backtracks as he sees the hard look I know is on my face. Mike means well, I know this, but he wasn’t around last time I tried ‘dating’. 

“I’m still not ready,” I say, and it’s the truth. I don’t think of other men in that way; I haven’t for years. I don’t know if it’s psychological, I mean, that time with Jeff didn’t end so well. But my therapist has been pushing me recently. He’s not pushing me into dating exactly, he just thinks I should entertain the possibility of dating. Jeff’s image comes into my mind uninvited. He’s smiling, and we’re laughing, and then he’s touching me and making me feel…

Sometimes, the thought of him can make me smile, or make me hard, but then I remember how it ended, how I screamed at him and retreated from him and how I never called or wrote him to apologize, and my face burns with humiliation. I sigh again and repeat “I’m not ready.” Mike throws me a sad look, but doesn’t press further. 

When we arrive at my building, I wish him a happy a holiday. He waits until I get inside, as always. I give him another wave as I walk into the tiny lobby, and wait until he’s pulling away to close my eyes and lean against the door until I can breathe again.

It’s nice that my friends and family want me to be happy, but I don’t think they understand that I am as happy as I can be at the moment.

I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, toeing off my shoes and gratefully wriggling my toes. I loosen my shirt as I make my way to the kitchen and get a glass of water. I really want a coffee but I’m always so psyched up after work the last thing I need is more caffeine or I’ll never sleep. 

Finally, I sit at the table and boot up my Mac. It’s old and temperamental, and my mom keeps talking about buying me another one, but she can’t afford it and I certainly can’t, and it’s not like it doesn’t work at all. I can eke a few more years out of it, hopefully. There’s an email from Chris; he’s on tour again. His band is doing well. They aren’t U2, (thank God) but they are a successful indie band with a large, and rather scary, following. It still amazes me that the band Chris joined while at Berkeley has made it so big. Chris dropped out of college. He was nervous about doing that but it was worth it in the end I smile at Chris’ description of an incident with a couple of groupies that involved what he called downhill skiing. I’m not sure what that is and Chris knows me so well that he included a link to urbandictionary.com. God I’m such an innocent! I am surprised that at least one of the groupies he was referring to was a man. Maybe I shouldn’t be, he was always a very sexual man, why would he limit himself to just one sex. I’m excited when he tells me that their last single got into the top ten on itunes. Then he asks, once again, when I’m going to come and hang out with him, and I realize how much I miss him. It’s been two years since he was last in the Dallas area and we could get together. Two years of emails and the occasional phone call. 

I’m going to do it. 

I’m going to ask Dominic for some time off once Mike gets back. I have a fair amount saved so buying a ticket won’t be any trouble. I fire an email back to Chris asking if it’s okay for me to tag along with the band for a couple of weeks, and the reply comes back immediately: “Get your sorry ass out here, douchewad. Right the fuck _now!_ ” He’s attached a copy of his itinerary. So I email back and plan to meet up with Chris as soon as I can get some time off. He’s in Seattle at the moment and will be off to Vancouver soon. I imagine my wardrobe, what should I take. It’s much further north, will it be much colder? I’ll have to check the weather just in case I need to buy some new clothes. That’ll have to wait until tomorrow as I need to get some sleep now. Although I’m vibrating with excitement, so much so I can’t sit still, I’m also exhausted. Just as I’m about to shut down and go to bed I receive a final email Chris again “Get here soon, I miss you asshole.” 

I just have to sort things with Dom and then I can confirm the dates. I go to bed with a smile on my face and a lightness in my chest.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Dominic’s fine with letting me have vacation time. In fact, he looks really pleased. I find a bonus in my pay packet, I look at him questioningly but he just says

“You’ve worked every holiday, come in at short notice, and never complained about covering for others. You deserve it, man. If I had five workers like you my life would be golden. Hell, if I had three like you…” He pats me on the shoulder and hustles me out the door. “Now, go; pack.” it’s almost as if he believes I won’t actually go. 

I hurry home and jump on the computer to email Chris, telling him I’ll be on my way in a couple of days, and to expect to see me in Seattle. Before I’m even in the online ticket site, the computer dings telling me I have a new message. It’s an e-ticket from Chris. I don’t know whether to be angry or touched.  
I feel like I’m off on an adventure, like a child going to Disney World for the first time. I’m all packed and ready to go. I checked the weather websites and went clothes shopping to amend my wardrobe accordingly. My mom laughed at me, she says it’s not that much colder in Seattle but that I might need an umbrella. I’m not taking any chances I’ve packed a couple of sweaters too. It’s as I’m standing in front of my fridge,taking out the milk to pour it away, that I remember being this excited about going off to college. I also can’t help but remember how that turned out.

“Fuck, Jensen. Snap out of it!” I give myself a metaphorical slap . I check that I have my ticket, money and phone. I may be becoming a little ADHD. Still, in less time than I’m really ready for, the cab is here, and I’m on my way to the airport. 

The flight to Seattle is far less stressful than the one I had taken to California. It’s as if I’m excited in a different way this time. Last time I was running from something and this time I’m running towards it, towards my best friend. 

Chris meets me at the airport in Seattle, and the guy looks every inch the rock star, he’s wearing a cowboy hat and aviator shades. If he’s trying for anonymous it isn’t working—Seattle is still a major indie music scene and he’s surrounded by excited girls asking for his autograph. He smiles at them all, and either winks or goes ‘aw shucks’ when they flirt, depending on their age. It would be funny if it wasn’t so weird.

Then he notices me, staring at him. He gives the girls one last smile before coming over and crushing me in a bear hug. He’s never had personal space issues, or any other issues, and the fact that I’m gay has never stopped him touching me. Originally, I’d wondered if he was bi but I eventually realized that he was just really comfortable with his sexuality. 

I haven’t seen the guy for two years and I had forgotten how much I love him. “God I’ve missed you,” I murmur. His embrace relaxes me like no medication ever has.

“Right back at ya,” he smirks. He gives me a manly thump on the back before pulling away a little. He’s got my biceps in a tight grip as he backs me up to look at me. “It’s good to see ya, Jen.” A little shake, and he finally releases me. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get to the hotel. We aren’t playing tonight, so we can chill, have a few beers and catch up.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply.  
As we leave the airport, I get a horrible feeling that he might have a limo outside, after all he is living the rock star lifestyle but I’m relieved when he leads me to a pick-up truck. Okay, so it’s a brand-spanking new, white and sparkly Chevy Colorado, but a pick-up truck none the less. 

“It’s just a hire” he says “but I like it so much that I’m thinking of buying one, it’s so easy to drive”

He drives like a maniac, cursing out the other drivers who probably just want to get out of his way.

“I love driving in this city,” he crows as he narrowly avoids sideswiping a school bus. I close my eyes and hang on for dear life. Chris grins at me as he shrieks around a corner and pulls up to a classy hotel called the Inn at the Market. 

Chris flings his keys to the valet. “Driving is such a stress reliever,” he says. Then he laughs at me as I try to straighten my legs, which feel like Jell-O I feel like dropping to my knees and kissing the tarmac. 

“Come on.” He takes my arm and tugs me into the vestibule before my heart rate has returned to normal. He winks at the woman manning the reception desk and gets a blush in return. From there it’s straight up to his room.

“The record company is paying for it” he says bashfully as I eye the place in amazement, I’ve never been inside such an opulent hotel “The album is selling really well and they expect great things from the next one”

“I got you an adjoining room.” he says. ”So we can do loads of catching up.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks at me intently. It’s like he’s taking in everything about me. I hope I pass muster. A squeeze, then he releases me. ”You’re looking good, Jen.”

I’m embarrassed at how happy I am to have his approval. It’s been ten years, but I’ve finally managed to regain the weight I’d lost after Jared disappeared There’s even some  
muscles in there . Compared to the years when I was underweight and pale, had bad skin and bags under my eyes, I look like a poster boy for Men’s Health magazine. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Rockstar,” I say as I shoulder bump him. He was always confident and success had made that an even bigger part of him, but his eyes still twinkle with mischief just like they did when we first met. We take our beers out onto the balcony where we can look out at the Space Needle. He talks of riders and groupies, and the incredible buzz of getting onstage in front of hundreds of people. It’s completely alien and absolutely fascinating. I tell him little anecdotes about life in The Mission, stories about eccentric customers and walking in on mini-orgies taking place in the restaurant’s nooks and crannies. It’s fun, and silly, and so far removed from my normal, everyday life that I’m more relaxed than I can ever remember being, so of course, that’s when Chris has to spoil it. 

“Jen.” His voice is soft but serious. 

“Hmm.” I turn my head to look at him, everything seems to require so much effort. I’ve had a couple of beers and everything is a little fuzzy since I don’t normally drink. 

“I do worry about you,” he says into the comfortable quiet that settled between us. 

My eyes widen in surprise. It’s been years since I’ve given anyone any reason to worry about me. I’ve got a decent job with people I like… 

I reach out and grab his wrist. “I’m fine, Chris,” I tell him. “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” 

“I think…” He hesitates; draws a deep breath. “I think you’re punishing yourself.” I start to protest but he waves me off. “I think you blame yourself for Jared.” I flinch; I can’t help it. I pull my hand back abruptly. 

Chris isn’t finished.

“I think you blame yourself for not going with him. I think you blame yourself for being the one left behind.” He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I think you blame yourself for not finding him.” It’s like prodding an open sore, and I want to beg him to stop talking, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

“None of this is your fault; you realize that, right?” he says, frowning at me. I can’t look at him. He pokes me until my eyes meet his. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to not know what happened to him,” His eyes go distant, and I can almost hear him turning that thought over. Then he shudders. “Doesn’t bear thinking about.” 

No, it really doesn’t, I agree silently. So why is he still doing it?

“Jen, this needs to end; you have to stop living this half-life. You’re not a waiter, damn it. You need to get a proper job, make some friends… start living again”

Now I’m angry. How dare he judge how I live my life? I don’t judge him. Hell, I’ve got no right to judge anyone. Just because I like living simply, because I don’t need a lot, doesn’t mean I’m not living. And I have friends, damn it! I glare at Chris, ready to blast him, but all I can see is concern. There’s no judgment there and I deflate. I don’t know what to say to put his mind at rest, but I have to try. He’s waiting for me to say something, anything. 

“I have friends, Chris, and they look out for me.” He looks skeptical, but lets me continue. “I know I don’t have the most prestigious job,” It makes me giggle, damn beer. “but neither of us are lawyers, right? I like it my job, Chris, and I’m good at it. Maybe in the future I’ll want something else but for now...for now this is all I want.” I can hear the unspoken ‘all I can cope with’ but I’m not sure Chris does and he doesn’t seem happy but he nods and takes another swig of his beer before continuing.

“What about a relationship?” he asks, looking embarrassed.

I squirm in the comfortable chair: I really don’t need this. “I’m not ready for a relationship” I say. 

Chris sighs. “Jen, it’s been such a long time, surely... don’t you ever feel lonely?”

 

I tap my fingers on my beer bottle, considering, before I look back at Chris. “Sometimes,” I admit. “Sometimes, I feel like there’s something missing, but I firmly believe that when the time is right I’ll know, and someone will come into my life.” I smile at him but it’s a little sad. I don’t like having to analyze myself because even I realize that my rhetoric is a little flawed “It’s not like I haven’t had opportunities,” I tell him. “I work in the service industry, so I’ve been hit on by a lot of guys: old, young, good-looking, and rich. They just don’t interest me.”

“What if you’ve already met him?” Chris says 

What? I look at Chris in shock. Is he coming on to me? That wouldn’t be good—not good, at all. 

It only takes him glancing at me to have him backtracking. “Not me! _Hell_ , boy, I don’t mean _me_.” My stomach lurches in relief. 

“I mean you’re a fine looking man, and all,” he sniggers “but I prefer a nice rack, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh thank God. I’d hate to hurt your feelings by turning you down.” I try to keep it light but underneath my heart is racing: I don’t know what I would have done if Chris _had_ been propositioning me. My relief is short-lived.

“I was thinking of Jeff,” he blurts out. 

“What?” I squeal. Smooth I know, but that was unexpected. “Jeff was a thousand years ago, and, well, let’s put it this way: it wasn’t my finest hour.” Chris snorts at that, I suppose it maybe has an amusing edge, looking backward… if you squint. It was also awful and soul destroying in one neat package. I don’t like to think back to that time, it’s almost as if that was my last chance of normal, my last chance to be happy and I had to screw it up. Me and my fatalistic attitude need a good smacking sometimes. My therapist is still having me address my feelings with regard to this. I school my features, there’s no need for Chris to see how much this is affecting me. “What made you think about Jeff after so long?”

I have to ask. To be honest, Jeff hasn’t been all that far from my thoughts recently. Not in an obsessive way, just wistful I guess. I think I maybe had a chance with Jeff, before my stupid brain fucked it up. And thinking about it is almost as painful as thinking about Jared. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting my past, and I have enough regrets with Jared.

If Jared’s still alive, he’s almost thirty now, like me. It’s hard for me to think of him as anything but that smiling, luminous boy I loved, love still. Everything always leads back to Jared. I push him from my mind now and remember Jeff. He was a beautiful man and the first that made me feel like a sexual being. But I royally screwed that up.

“I’ve kept in contact with Jeff,” Chris announces. ’ 

I was trying to swallow a mouthful of beer and Chris’ statement makes me choke on the bitter liquid. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I turn to face Chris fully. “What the hell, man?” I say. “You never mentioned that you were still in contact with Jeff.  
Chris just shrugs, picking the label off the bottle before lifting it to his lips to drain it.

I look away and take another draught until I finally break down “How is he?” I ask my voice thick and heavy.

Chris looks at me. There’s still no judgment in his expression, just sympathy. “He’s good. He was worried about you, Jen.” 

I shake that off. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you still talked to him.”

Chris snorts. “I didn’t mention it, because to start off with, you didn’t remember him--me, for that matter.--Then your mom thought it best not to rush you when you did remember. And I kept waiting for you to bring him up, but you never did. But, fuck Jen, it’s been years, and you’ve never once talked about him.”

My mother said? Chris has been talking to my mother about me? I lean forward and put my suddenly aching head in my hands. 

“It makes me wonder about things, you know?”

I turn my head and look up at him ‘I know, but Chris…It was so embarrassing--humiliating really. I was ashamed.”

“You said you were going to write to him,” Chris reminds me—as if I need the reminder.

I nod my agreement. “I was. I was going to write to him, but the longer I left it, the harder it was and then it was just too late.”

Chris takes my hand. “Jen, it’s not too late.‘ 

I move my head so quickly I’m sure it gives me whiplash. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s too late. What am I supposed to say to the guy? ‘Sorry, I freaked out after we fucked for the first time.’” This is not going well and I don’t want to entertain the rest of the conversation particularly while drunk.

“Jen, he always asks about you, and he’s here in Seattle. I thought we could…”

The rest of his statement fades out as my heart slams in my chest, and all the alcohol that’s sitting in my stomach threatens to make a reappearance. What was Chris thinking? What was I thinking, trusting Chris like this? I get to my feet and stumble to the door of my room. My head feels thick and woolly, and I’m lurching because my balance is off, but I have to get out of there now. I ignore Chris calling my name behind me.

I make it to my room without incident, closing and locking the adjoining door before I stagger to the bathroom and sit on the floor by the toilet. My stomach has settled somewhat, but why take chances? So I lean on the wall and close my eyes. I know that I’m drowsing, but I’m sure this position is too uncomfortable for actual sleep It’s not the first time I’ve been wrong.

_I’m lying on the couch. The sun is beaming through the window, highlighting the dust motes that dance before my eyes. Jared’s been gone a long time, far longer than it takes to walk to the market and back, and I’m considering giving him a call as I reach out to grab the sparkly dust. Jared and I never argue, (well except for that one time when we were trying to decide who would win out of Superman or Spiderman, but that was just us being silly). I’m feeling guilty about our stupid spat. I reach for the phone, and dial Jared’s number._

_Mrs. P answers, and when I ask for Jared she seems surprised. ‘“Isn’t he with you?’”  
I sit up, my laziness forgotten. “No. He went to the market two hours ago, I thought he must have gone home after…”  
“He’s not here,’”she says, sounding concerned.  
“He probably met someone at the store” I say. It’s the most logical conclusion since Jared knows, and is friends with, so many people in town. “There’s no need to worry, Mrs. P,” I tell her. “It’s still light out, and Jared can take care of himself.”_

_She agrees with me, and her voice sounds a little lighter. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the tingle of worry that runs down my spine and makes my stomach churn. I hang up after a  
few more platitudes and try Jared’s cellphone again. It rings before going to voicemail. I leave a brief apology and beg him to call me._

I kind of know I’m dreaming; that I’m in that twilight between sleep and awake where everything is a little fuzzy. I can feel the cold, hard chill of the bathroom, but I can also feel Jared at my back, his warmth seeping through me as I lean against his chest, his arm strong around me. I’m almost afraid to talk, in case it chases this wonderful moment away, but I can’t miss the opportunity.

_“I’ve missed you’”I murmur._

_He doesn’t reply, of course, but his arm pulls tighter around me as if afraid to let me go. I want to turn my head, to see him one last time, but I’m sure if I do that he won’t be there and my heart will break just a little more, and I don’t know if I can take it. I can feel his breath at my ear, and I can’t resist turning my head slightly, enough to see a hint of his jaw._

_It’s stubble covered. That throws me for a minute, because Jared always complained that he couldn’t grow a beard; that he would always be smooth skinned and unmanly. Looks like he just needed a few years of growing. I think I hear him mutter something, low and indistinct, and I have to look at him. I turn… And there he is._

_He has aged beautifully. His jawline is more masculine and defined than it was at 17. His cheekbones are more distinct, and his eyes… A wealth of pain and experience lives in his eyes._

_“I love you,’” I say. “I never thought I’d see you again.”  
He smiles sadly. “I love you, too.’” He moves his head forward as I move mine, and our lips meet; the kiss is soft and warm. It’s affectionate and loving, and not the overwhelming passion and need that we’d actually kissed with._

And then he’s gone, and my back is against the hard wall of the bathroom, and my ass is on the cold, tile floor, and I’m stiff and sore, and filled with an aching sadness which fills my entire being. 

I think Jared just said goodbye.

Tears falling and I start to sob, huge, body-shaking sobs. I don’t stop until I’m exhausted and dehydrated, and even then I can still taste him on my tongue.


	7. Chapter 7

Morning comes too soon. I must have moved myself to the bed sometime during the night, as I am lying face down on it, still fully clothed, but I honestly don’t remember doing it. Someone’s banging on the door. It’s what must have woken me. I’m not ready to be awake, so I pull the pillow over my head and ignore it—ignore everything.

I’m drifting back to sleep when the lock clicks and I have Chris hauling me from the bed.

“Christ, son. I thought you’d offed yourself,” he says. His voice is an octave too high, and it’s enough to tell me just how panicked he felt, so I don’t say anything as he runs anxious eyes over me, checking for injury. Finally, he sits on the bed next to me, a hand on my hip. He waves at a guy by the door, wearing the hotel’s uniform. “I had to get the manager to open the door, I was that worried. Don’t do that to me again!”

“Sorry,” I croak. God, I need a drink. “I just needed to be alone for a bit”

The way Chris is looking at me lets me know I must look a mess. My eyes still feel swollen, and my lips feel cracked. I lick them, and I can still taste Jared there, faint and fading fast. Tears threaten again, but I steel myself against them saying, ‘Chris, I need some water?’ 

He jumps up and gets a bottle from the mini bar. I force myself up, sitting against the hard headboard. He passes me the bottle; it’s barely cold but that’s okay. I open it and drain half before coming up for air. 

“Better?” Chris asks 

I nod and attempt a smile. It mustn’t have been a very good attempt because Chris flinches, then he reaches over and takes my hand.

“It’s okay, Jen” he says. “I won’t force the issue with Jeff”. Surprisingly, I feel both relieved and disappointed. 

I give him a wan smile. “I’m sorry, Chris. I’m still fucked up...but I’m really trying not to be.”

He pats my arm. “Do you want some breakfast?”

I shake my head. “I just want to sleep for a bit longer.” I down the rest of my water, and Chris gets me another. 

Chris lies down on the bed and pulls me with him. He wraps me in his arms and murmurs, “Sleep, then.” This should probably feel awkward-- being held by my straight best friend--but it doesn’t. It feels nice. I relax into his arms and drift painlessly into a dreamless sleep.

When I come back to consciousness, it’s to little fragments of memories. Not all of them were bad, but the good ones are chased around my brain by the bad ones, and for some reason the bad ones always win. The day Jared disappeared was the defining moment of my life. It’s almost like there are two Jensen’s, the one that existed before that day, who was young, fun and happy. He was totally unaware of how crappy life can become. Then there is the post disappearance Jensen who is careful, cynical and although he hides it well is deeply unhappy. When I dream I’m always the first Jensen, sometimes I’m young, nine or ten, with skinny legs and skinned knees. Or sometimes I’m older, a teenager, gawky and unsure of myself but always smiling and happy. I hope one day I’ll find my old self.

The days following Jared’s disappearance were frantic. 

Mrs. Padalecki realized straight away that something was wrong. I did too, but I didn’t want to phone the police, because that would make my fears more real, as if not involving them meant that Jared was okay. Mrs. P, though, she phoned the police the moment I hung up. The police tried to reason with her, saying that Jared hadn’t been gone long, telling her that the odds were good that he would turn up soon; explaining that this was a safe neighborhood, but she was adamant. She kept on at them until they sent an officer around. 

When they came to interview me, I didn’t help, because I admitted we had argued, so they thought that Jared was probably off somewhere sulking. 

The police officers wanted to pacify me, but I just wanted them to get out there and look for my boyfriend. Later, when Jared didn’t turn up, a frantic search entailed, but of course he was never found. I held things together for five years and then it all came crashing down. I think the fact that I kept myself busy searching for Jared, following up every tenuous lead, helped maintain my sanity. But when I realized that he was likely never coming back it hit me like a punch to the gut. 

My mom says I made myself ill, but I didn’t, I worried and worked myself up that’s for sure. In fact my mom had me sedated at one stage although I never cried, that came later. I’m not sure-- that period of my life is a little blurry. I do remember sitting in my room for days, wearing a t-shirt that Jared had left there. It was a stupid juvenile t-shirt, grey with the slogan ‘Don’t make me go all Texas on your ass’ His mom hated that t-shirt, which made Jared love it all the more, of course. It used to smell like him, but that had long since worn off. I wore it hoping to catch one final, faint whiff and sometimes I think I did. It was huge on me, swamping my smaller form, but it comforted me, made me feel closer to him somehow. My mom didn’t like me wearing it, she said it was unhealthy, but she didn’t pursue it.

When I`d finished my version of ‘mourning’, I took a long, hard look at my life. I felt like I had nothing to live for. At least while I was searching for Jared I had a raison d'être, suddenly my future wasn`t focused; instead it just meandered off into the distance. There was no hope, and no purpose, and I felt empty. I didn’t mean to do it. At least, there was no conscious decision that I recall. I certainly had no intention of hurting anyone, especially not my mom, but I looked into the bathroom mirror, and it was like looking at my face for the first time. I was pale, thin, and my eyes held no spark; I had aged, badly, or rather I looked like a dead man. 

I opened the bathroom cabinet, and there were several bottles of pills in there. The doctor had prescribed drugs to calm me down, drugs to help me sleep, and then some anti-depressants on top of those. There were also some painkillers left over from when Mom hurt her back.

My hands moved without input from my brain, opening the bottles and spilling the contents out on the bathroom counter. Filling a glass with water, I shoveled handfuls of the brightly colored tablets into my mouth, chasing them down with gulps of the water. When I finished, I sat on the toilet and waited to see what would happen. My mind was on Jared again and I could almost feel the brush of his lips on my neck, it made me shiver. That was when I realized I had taken a fatal overdose. Looking back, it was scary. It was scary because it was a relief to have done it—a relief to know I didn’t have to pretend to be okay anymore, and maybe, just maybe, I would see Jared again, sooner rather than later. 

I could feel the pills kicking in; my heart felt funny. It was beating too hard, too slow, but I wasn’t scared. I felt light, almost like I could float away. My head fell to the side, because it was too heavy to hold up.

I heard my mom’s voice, calling me. I couldn’t respond, since my tongue was too big for my mouth and I couldn’t form words. Suddenly, she burst into the bathroom. The look I remember how she looked: Fear, disappointment, sorrow, anger, . She screamed at me, but I couldn’t hear her. She was receding as the world turned grey. 

I felt strong arms wrap around me and I smelled Jared’s distinctive scent.

 

_I’m stood in the hall listening to the raised voices coming from the sitting room. My mom and dad argue all the time now. Normally it’s about me and my ‘obsession’._

_“Donna” my dads tone is harsh and exasperated “you can’t let him continue with this madness. I’m sorry Jared’s gone, but the boy needs to get on with his life now, it’s been over a year. He should be at college.”_

_I can hear my mom sigh “He needs to do this, don’t you understand? If we don’t let him explore every avenue then he will never find closure.”_

_“He’s not using his college fund and that’s final.”_

_“Look why don’t you go back to that woman and leave us alone” she said sadly “we manage alright without you. Jensen needs positive people around him and you, well you don’t help. If he wants to use his college fund to look for Jared..” her voice tails off._

_“You pander to him, that money could be better spent. Hell I could use it now that Suzanne is pregnant” I hear the crack of a slap. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, as if it is trying to crawl from my body. I hate to hear them arguing, especially over me. After Jared’s disappearance it became a regular feature in our house. Awkward silences interrupted by the slamming of doors. Nights my mom spent alone, waiting for my dad to call and say where he was. The disintegration of the family unit was gradual, sad and eventually entirely predicable.  
The door opens abruptly and I try to hide in the shadows. Dad steps through it. But I’m not quick enough and he catches me standing there. His eyes go wide for a moment and a blush colors his face. I can see the imprint of a hand on his cheek. Then he just turns without a word and leaves the house.  
I go to my mom, she is biting her lip and her eyes are heavy with tears but she looks determined, like an Amazonian warrior about to go to war. _

_“I’m sorry you had to hear that” she ruffles my hair so I kiss her cheek._

_“This calls for chocolate and a movie” I say, I’d say anything to make her smile again. And smile she does.  
“My choice?”_

_“Oh God that means a chick flick” I complain but she just chuckles and starts rifling through the DVD’s._

 

I was in hospital for three months and my relationship with Mom, took a huge knock. I knew she was disappointed in me for not telling her how hopeless I felt and I knew that she blamed herself for not noticing.

The stay in hospital wasn’t horrendous, in fact it helped.

At first, I wasn’t amenable to their help I was sullen and silent. Refusing to talk during sessions. I would blank them out, living only in my head. My thoughts were so loud, I was surprised that they couldn’t hear them anyway. Group therapy was the worst. So many people talking and vying for attention. Even though I kept my head down,the facilitator would still call on me to talk but I would just scowl at him and then stare out of the window. 

The staff persevered with me. One doctor in particular, Dr. Boreanaz. was a lifeline. He didn’t condescend, he was just there, prodding at me until I exploded. 

“Tell me about Jared”

“Would he want to see you like this?”

“How do you think Jared would have coped if he had been the one left behind?” That was the question that sparked my interest and I looked up from my chewed nails and into his dark brown eyes and actually considered the question. What would Jared have done if it had been me that disappeared? The honest answer is of course, I don’t know. But I think he would have looked for me until he was exhausted and then he would have found some reserves and looked some more. Putting Jared in my place did give me some perspective. I know I wouldn’t want him to put his life on hold forever. I would want him to go on and have happiness in his life. I wouldn’t want to be forgotten, I’m not that selfless. But I would want him to move on. It was a Eureka moment. 

From then on Doctor Boreanaz took all my anger and helped me direct it. He explained about how little worth there is in having negative feelings about yourself. He explained it a lot better than that, but what he said made sense. Even if Jared was dead, he would never blame me, so why am I blaming me? At the end of the day it’s me and my negative feelings that are making me miserable. He saved my life, I don’t doubt that and as I walked out of the hospital three months later I was striving to be a more positive person.

It doesn’t always work, but I’m doing my best.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Revisiting those old memories had a beneficial effect on my mood. Okay, so maybe I made a bit of an idiot of myself in front of Jeff, but I’m an adult, for God’s sake! I’m nearly thirty. Surely, I can meet up with him and apologize for my...well my behavior, but it’s not like I had a lot of control over it. 

Have I even got anything to apologize for? 

Well, for not contacting him after my episode, or whatever you want to call it. I didn’t realize he would be worried, I thought he would be glad to be rid of my psycho ass. If he’s still worried, all these years later, then the least I can do is meet with him. 

I wonder if he’s still drool worthy. Hmm… I can still remember the way he smelt, the way he tasted.

I can feel a twitch of arousal teasing at my cock, and it astounds me. I haven’t really felt much of anything for years.

I turn over, and Chris twitches and mumbles. He’s still holding me tightly. And he may have drooled on my shoulder. 

 

He exhales, and his not-quite-fragrant morning breath hits my nose. His eyes start to flutter, and he smacks his lips a couple times. He’s waking up. When he opens his eyes and tries to focus, It’s almost cute. In fact, it reminds me of a puppy we had when I was a kid. 

“Hey,” he rasps. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I smile. “I still don’t forgive you for keeping secrets, but maybe I’m not one to talk”

He smiles wryly at me. “God, I need a shower. And it feels like something’s died in my mouth,” he ends with a grimace. 

“Smells like it too,” I can’t help but answer. He swipes me as he sits up. 

“Let me order room service, and then we can jump in the shower,” he says. He laughs at my shocked expression. “Separate showers, dude. Just cos I’ve spent one night in the same bed as you doesn’t mean that I want to see your wet, hairy ass. Thanks all the same!”

Sniggering, I say, “I thought I’d converted you.’”

“You wish,” he mutters as he reaches for the phone. ”Hungry?”

“Starving,” I answer and my stomach rumbles in support. 

I listen as Chris orders a huge breakfast. “Thirty minutes, Jen,” he says. “They’ll deliver it to my room.” Then he goes to his room to shower and I hit the bathroom myself.

The bathrooms here are almost transcendent. From the mosaic floor, to the irregularly shaped huge tub to the freestanding glass cuboid that houses the shower. The shower itself looks like something from a science fiction movie, there are knobs and nozzles and I’m not sure which operates what. But with a bit of experimentation I’m stood under a warm shower and the water feels like tropical rain hitting my body. I’ve always loved showering. Not just because it cleanses the body. In my case it also cleanses the mind. I can turn over those niggling thoughts, the ones that make me unhappy. I seem to be able to resolve them in the shower or at least find the positive in them. 

I think about Jeff, I think about what I would say to him after all these years. But I push that thought aside as I remember what he looked like. Tall, dark a handsome man with a smile that was cheeky and a little naughty. We didn’t talk about his childhood but I bet he was full of mischief. I smile as I lather my hair. He was a fine looking man although he was barely an inch or two taller than me I always felt dwarfed by him, by the power of his personality. And I liked it. Humming to myself feeling both cleaner and lighter I dry myself and make my way to meet Chris. My stomach growling in anticipation of breakfast.

We are both freshly clean and smelling practically human as we sit down to breakfast. For a while the only sounds are of us eating the pancakes and bacon, I look at Chris sheepishly.

“I do want to see Jeff,” I say to him. “I do want to apologize.”

He looks at me as if I’ve lost the plot. “Jen, yesterday the thought of seeing him again sent you into a tailspin and now...” He flaps his hands about to illustrate his confusion. 

“I know what I said, but I’ve thought about it, and I’m just being a coward,” I admit. “I should face him, and say I’m sorry,”

“Hell, Jen, you’ve nothing to apologize for; he just wants to see you--no agenda. Why don’t you just meet for coffee or something? After all, you were friends before all this... madness.” He stops and flushes when he realizes what he said. “Sorry,” he mutters. I gesture that it’s, okay. It was madness, in the true sense of the word. 

“Just give him a chance,” he continues. “No expectations, and maybe it’ll do you good, too”

He’s probably right, but 

“Hell, Chris when did you become so mature? In a minute, you’ll be a fully fledged adult and then what will the world come to?” Chris swats me but a huge grin breaks on his face.

 

Chris has a practice for this evening’s concert. He says he’ll invite Jeff, so we can meet before the show, have our moment of high drama, and then we can watch the show together if we want. 

I don’t even bother trying to hide how nervous I am. I don’t remember ever feeling like this; like there’s a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My palms are sweating so badly I think my fingertips are going to be wrinkled. I consider taking a Xanax or trying to score a valium off one of the roadies, but I don’t want to be doped up when I see Jeff again. I want to experience everything, and I want to make it count. 

I feel like everything is slotting into place, even though I don’t know what that ‘everything’ is, and I certainly don’t know how to explain it, except…. For the first time in a long time, I feel positive—not neutral, not blank, not bad. I feel positive. I have no expectations of the meeting; I don’t expect us to fall into each other’s arms and live happily ever after--too much complicated history for that-- but this is the one thing on my list I never did cross off. Once I do this, it will be like I have a clean slate.I’ll be able to start moving forward again, instead of treading water.

Chris calls and asks me to meet him in the auditorium at 5.00 o’clock so he can facilitate the meeting. I have a few hours so I wander around Seattle, visit the market. It’s too busy so I find myself a nice quiet coffee shop, try a couple of the house blends and people watch for the rest of my free time. I’m on caffeine overload as I head back to the hotel where I shower and shave again. I purposefully don’t make too much fuss about what I wear, but I do wear my best jeans and a nice shirt. Okay, I choose my clothes carefully, but I don’t try on seventeen outfits and fling them across the room in a fit of pique when they aren’t quite what I want, although I am tempted. 

Chris arranged for a driver to take me to the WaMu Theatre, and although my stomach is churning, I enjoy the ride. It’s nice to be driven--it makes me feel important. I wonder what it would be like to be chauffeured everywhere? I guess it would be nice for a while, but I quite like to drive, so maybe it wouldn’t be that much fun. I don’t own a car right now, but if I did I’d hop in it whenever I feel down and just drive to see where I end up. 

Hmm. Maybe a car should be next on my wish list. 

Almost before I know it we arrive at the theater. It’s an impressive building, and there, on the front, is a huge billboard with a picture of Chris and the guys. Now that’s fame. 

The driver drops me at the backdoor and when I knock, the hugest bouncer answers. He must be nearer seven foot than six and his chest, man his chest is just enormous. It’s muscly, sure but there’s a layer of fat too. But it doesn’t detract from his presence one bit. He’s of indeterminate age, his face almost square and wrinkle free. And like the rest of him it’s large. 

“Name,” he grunts. I tell him. He scans the list then motions me in, handing me a backstage pass with one ginormous hand, that could easily swamp mine. 

My name was on the list… That is too cool!

I feel like doing a happy dance. I’m backstage at a concert, and I didn’t even have to blow the doorman to get in (not that I would you know. I’m much classier than that. Mind you if it had been Springsteen...)

Snapping my mind back on track, I wander down the corridor following the sound of voices. I can hear Chris’ booming voice followed by raucous laughter. I turn the corner to see Chris wrestling Steve to the floor. Steve is the lead guitarist and the guy who invited Chris into the band. He’s short and blond and one of the most relaxed characters I have ever met. That is until Chris comes along and he sparks something in Steve that lets his wild side out to play. There’s an awful lot of body contact for a so-called straight guy, but who am I to judge. I cough politely to let them know I’m here, and they scramble to their feet, chuckling a little. Chris is pink with embarrassment; it’s quite cute, really.

“Hey, Steve.” I say. “Hello, Chris.”

“Jen,” he responds, running a quick hand through his messy hair. 

I snicker: this is a bit too much like being in high school. Chris grins in response. 

“This is a great looking venue, guys,” I say, breaking the awkward moment. “I can’t wait to see the show.” It’s true, too. It’s been years since I watched the guys play, and that last time, it was in a shabby bar. This is a whole other level, and I can feel their excitement in the air. 

It’s in the way Chris bounces on his toes as he replies. “Yeah, I’ve got a great feeling about tonight. And,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “Jeff should be here any minute.”

That makes my stomach swoop. It’s nerves, but also excitement, anticipation… hope. 

I’m actually looking forward to seeing him again. I really am. I don’t know what to expect, but whatever happens this is definitely an improvement. I’ve let myself stagnate over the past five years, and it’s time I stopped running. 

It’s only early afternoon, but Chris grabs a beer from the bands rider and throws it to me. Even though I’m not much of a drinker, I open it and take a sip, hoping it will calm my nerves. But I definitely don’t want to drink too much.

Chris is watching me carefully. He looks concerned, but when he notices me looking at him, he smiles brightly and shoulder bumps me. 

He’s my best friend. We may not see each other often, but whenever I need him, he’s there for me. 

Chris takes me out to the stage area. “You can watch from back here,” he says. “Sounds not the best, but you can’t beat the angle.”

“Wow” I say in awe. 

“Come onto the stage” he says and he drags me out, in front of the drums and some of their speakers. I peer out from the stage over the auditorium, and it hits me just how huge the place is. “I can’t imagine performing in front of a crowd this size,” I tell him. I laugh weakly. “Hell, I get nervous talking to a group of five people.” Chris laughs, but I honestly don’t know how Chris and the rest of the band do it.

The lights are on in the seating area, so it’s easy to see the two guys walking down of the aisles. The light out there isn’t great, but I can still recognize Jeff by the way he walks. Then they move into a pool of light and I can see Jeff’s grin. Hard to miss it: his whole face lights up when he sees me. It makes my guilt escalate into overdrive, but he’s hoists himself onto stage, and I’m in his arms before the emo crap has time to take root. 

He’s laughing and hugging me, and I’m laughing and hugging back, and all I can think is, “what took me so long?”

“Christ, Jensen! It’s good to see you,” he mutters in my ear. He pushes me back and holds me at arm’s length while his eyes drink me in. He casts them first over my face and then down my body. His expression is one of awe, it’s almost like he never expected to see me again. I can’t help but stare back. The years have been good to him; he may have a little more grey in his hair, but his body looks as hard and toned as it did five years ago.

“Good to see you, too,” I manage. I’m a little choked up. “God, Jeff! I’m so sorry...”

“None of that,” he murmurs pulling me in for another hug.

He’s warm and big and nice. I decide I could stay in his arms forever.

I hear a cough and Jeff pulls back from the hug. He leaves one arm around me as he pulls the other guy in with his free arm.

“Jensen,” he says. “I’d like you to meet my partner, Matt.”  
I look at the other guy, Matt. I’m hoping that by ‘partner’ he means ‘business partner’, but from the scowl on Matt’s face I’m pretty sure Jeff means boyfriend. 

“Oh,” I say and try and keep the disappointment from my face. “Nice to meet you Matt.” 

“No expectations,” Chris had said, but I wish he’d mentioned that Jeff was in a relationship because my stupid heart had expectations dammit. Even though my brain knew better, my heart had been hoping for the fairy tale ending, that Jeff would see me and profess his undying love and then we’d live happily ever after. Realism was never my strongest suit. 

“You too,” Matt managed, his face belying his words. He put his arm around Jeff, staking his claim. I don’t know why he was so possessive; Jeff hasn’t seen me for years and our relationship, such as it was, had been remarkably brief.

 

I look at Matt, sizing him up as he does the same to me. He’s younger than Jeff, but older than me, and good looking in an unremarkable way. He’s as tall as Jeff, so about an inch or so taller than me. He’s slender but not skinny, not like I am. His longish, blond hair is styled in that tousled, ‘just out of bed’ look that I can’t quite manage. The look in his pale, blue eyes is slightly mocking, and I think he realizes that I’m no competition to him in the looks department. 

I’m not as thin as I was, but my weight is still a little less than it should be. I have lines around my eyes, and dark shadows under them. I know I look tired as I work too hard, but seeing Jeff had boosted my mood one hundred percent. Even finding out about Matt hasn’t completely dimmed it. Damn I wish I hadn’t waited so long. 

Jeff is still looking at me as if he never wants to look away again, and I don’t want to stop looking at him, either. But there’s Matt, watching us with those ice blue eyes, so I turn my gaze. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble between them.

“Jen, you must come around to dinner while you’re in town,” Jeff says. Matt’s scowl gets worse. I feel like sniggering but manage not to. It’s just that Matt’s possessiveness is amusing. I would never try to steal another man’s partner. But I guess Matt doesn’t know that. If I want to renew my friendship with Jeff I’ll have to prove to Matt that I’m no threat.

“I’d love to,” I smile, turning to include Matt in the response. 

“Chris and the guys, too” Jeff adds and Chris and Steve both nod enthusiastically while extolling the virtues of Jeff’s cooking. Matt’s face contorts into something close to a real smile. Jeff smiles at Matt. “That’s okay isn’t it, honey?”

I feel insidious tendrils of jealousy under my skin creeping to my heart. It’s painful and ugly, and I have no right to feel this way. I’ve had years to contact Jeff, so if he’s moved on, I have only myself to blame. Matt seems like a nice enough guy, protective of Jeff that’s for sure. When he turns to look at Jeff I can see the love in his eyes, and Jeff looks back with unguarded affection. 

I force myself to smile; they’re happy and that has to be good enough for me. 

Chris looks at me, concerned, but I give him a reassuring look in return. I can do this. In fact, I’m looking forward to dinner with Jeff. I want to find out how life has treated him; what he’s been doing; how he met Matt. I want to know everything, so I can move on. Truly move on. I can feel absolution lurking around the corner and it feels a lot like freedom.

Jeff, Matt, and I are in the wings as the boys blister through an incredible act. Chris is rocking his ass off, giving the audience the show of a lifetime. The whole band is seamless. They’ve improved so much since the last time I saw them, it can’t be long until they move from cult band to the mainstream. 

Jeff, Matt, and I are in the wings as the boys blister through an incredible act. Chris is rocking his ass off, giving the audience back all the energy they’re feeding him until even the stage crew are floating on the high. The whole band is seamless. They’ve improved so much since the last time I saw them, it can’t be long until they move from cult band to the mainstream. 

“I can’t wait to say ‘I knew them before they were famous’!” I shout at Jeff, and he laughs and agrees.

Matt’s warmed up, and his smiles seem genuine. He’s even managed a short conversation with me, which is how I know that he’s an advertising executive--a pretty successful one too, if Jeff’s to be believed. 

“Yeah one of his accounts is for Hastings Soda” I knew that one, it was a pretty new brand. The adverts were quirky cartoons showing cute animals having bad days. They would then have a can of caffeinated soda and everything would be better. If only real life was like that.

Matt blushed when Jeff listed some of his other accounts. Jeff looked so proud as he said them that Matt lit up, even as he tried to make Jeff stop. 

I could see what Jeff saw in him then and it made me feel warm. Is it bad that I enjoyed basking in the warmth of their relationship? I’m having so much fun. I feel drunk on the excitement of the concert, the excitement of seeing my friends again and I finally feel like me. 

God I love this band! I love my friends, and I love Jeff. I haven’t felt so happy in years. Now that I’ve had a moment to adjust, I’m not sad that Jeff has moved on; I’m happy that he’s happy. The green eyed monster only rears its head intermittently, and I can keep it under control, I tell myself. Because I’m just that awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

The boys come off stage sweaty, beaming, and so full of energy, I’m worried one of them is gonna get hurt. Chris is play-punching Steve while Steve is wrestling Jake to the floor. It’s like being around a group of hyperactive toddlers. They want to go drinking, and I know it’s to work off some of that adrenaline, but I’d rather just go back to the hotel. I go along with them, anyway. We take a cab to a club, one Justin recommended, but it’s not the sort of club I’d expect rock stars to enjoy. . There’s no red carpet or velvet ropes enforcing a line, and the bouncers don’t hold a list that has to be consulted before we’re approved for entry. In fact, it’s kind of seedy inside, or I think it would be if I could actually see the walls. My feet stick to the floor as I shuffle along behind Justin. It’s packed, the floor’s sticky, and there’s no VIP area, but the music is rocking and I like what I see and hear. Paul Rogers, the best voice in rock music, is telling us “It’s alright now” and I’m inclined to agree with him. 

Jared would have loved it here; he’d been an old rocker at heart. 

Instead of feeling sad at the thought, I feel released--released from my own self-imposed prison, I think it’s time to celebrate his life; to stop mourning and looking back. Yes, he’s gone, and I suspect that I’ll never see him again.  
I’d always thought that it was Jared who kept a tight hold of my heart and refused to release it, but clearly it’s been me holding on all this time; grasping at his memory like a drowning man would seize a life preserver. Jared wouldn’t want this for me. If he knew how I’d lived since his disappearance, he would be horrified. 

I feel a warmth wash over me, almost like I used to feel when Jared entered a room, and my smile becomes more genuine. I think my boy is saying goodbye too. 

Maybe not goodbye, but farewell, because one day I will see him again. Probably not in this world, but one day we’ll be reunited.

 

I awake to someone groaning. It takes a moment of agony to realize that it’s me.

I try to open my eyes, but that hurts, too. My head is thumping and my mouth feels like a small furry animal crawled in there and died. 

I remember now why I don’t drink.

Dragging myself out of bed, I head for the bathroom, propping myself up on whatever wall is nearest so that I can navigate with my eyes mostly closed. I avoid the mirror as I empty my bladder. It’s too loud, and I have to hold my throbbing head with my free hand. 

Shower, I need a shower, and water. Not necessarily in that order. I stagger back to my room and grab a bottle of water from the mini bar and then return to the bathroom and I turn on the shower, letting the water warm as I try to coordinate my hands into undoing the buttons on my shirt. I down half the water in the bottle, before finally getting in and letting the hot water sooth my aching body. Slowly, as the water runs, my headache subsides, my stomach settles, and I can start to clean myself. I wash off the sweat and grime of that seedy club. The feeling as the soapy lather washes off me is like a caress, sensual and calming. Rehydrated and clean I feel a hundred times better and almost ready to face the day. I turn off the water, and let myself drip. That’s when I start to remember snatches of the night before in embarrassing color. 

Dancing. Was that me dancing? Me dirty dancing, thrusting my groin against some poor hapless bear of a guy?

Oh God was that me telling Jeff how much I love him?

Me telling Matt he was a lucky guy.

Oh no, there’s me telling Chris I love him. Hell I’m a sloppy drunk.

Oh crap flashback, _me dancing by myself_ , wiggling my ass and thinking I’m all that. 

People must have thought it was hilarious in a cringeworthy David Brent sort of way. 

I groan, because I don’t know how I’m ever going to face anyone again. I throw my towel-clad body onto the bed, closing my eyes, and try to pretend last night didn’t happen. 

My attempts at self-delusion are cruelly interrupted by loud banging on the door. 

My head doesn’t like that. My head likes the shouting that follows, even less.

“Oi! Dancing Queen! Get your sorry ass up! We’re gonna do some sight-seeing.”

Oh yes, it’s going to be one of those days. 

I roll off the bed, and make my way to the door. When I open the door to let Chris and Steve in, they both try to smooch me. I duck automatically. It makes my almost-healed head spin.

I don’t bother responding with words. Instead, I merely drop the towel and moon them as I search for some clean underwear. Serenaded by them both making retching sounds, 

“Enjoy the view boys” I grin as I shimmy my ass and then pull up my boxer briefs.  
I feel better already.

The day passes in a blur. There’s the Space Needle, which if I’m honest, I don’t really enjoy. I’m not a fan of heights, and the walkway isn’t wide enough to hide the fact that we are 520 feet above the ground. And the elevator was a traumatic event too. Fast moving and cramped.

Pike Place Market is much more to my liking. It’s bustling and vibrant, and the food selection is remarkable. I can’t help but think that Antonio would love to shop here. 

By the time we make it back to the hotel my headache is long gone, and my face is rosy from the breeze. The day’s not finished yet, though, because there’s still dinner with Jeff and Matt.

No problem: I feel alive and raring to go.

I put on the best clothes I brought for the dinner: nice dress pants and a sky blue shirt. Jeff may be with someone else, but I still want to look my best. When Chris knocks on the door I’m ready to go. We’d picked up a couple of bottles of wine to take. I’m no connoisseur but they look pricey, I hope they taste as good as they look. Steve and Chris look spiffy too, and the car journey passes in a blur of sparkling white lights against a black backdrop and then we’re there. I’m not nervous, which is surprising, but I am excited. I’m not nervous because this isn’t a date and there’s no potential for it to become a date. It’s just some friends getting together to catch up. It’s almost liberating, the lack of expectation.

Jeff lives in a nice suburban house, which doesn’t look a whole lot different to the house he’d rented in Palo Alto. Even the garden is similar, and I wonder whether Jeff is a closet gardener. The scented flora makes the air smell exotic as we walk up the path. 

Chris bangs on the door yelling, “Open the door, you old fairy!”

I choke on my own saliva. Then I look around to see if he’s disturbed the neighbors.

“God! You’re so inappropriate,” Jeff mutters as he opens the door. He drags Chris into a hug, and kisses him sloppily on the cheek. Steve laughs.

“Where’s my kiss?” I ask. Jeff was always the only guy I flirted with; it looks like five years apart hasn’t changed it. Thankfully, no one calls me on my behavior. In fact, no one even seems to notice. Jeff just leans over and plants a somewhat drier kiss on my cheek. It makes me tingle, like a mild electric spark. I’m beaming from ear to ear when I notice Matt watching from further down the hall. He’s leaning against the wall. I shrug at him and smile innocently, I’m not trying to steal his man but I unashamedly enjoyed Jeff’s attention. Matt just winks at me, the guy is mellowing and I’m really starting to like him. I don’t know if I’d be so understanding in his position. But then he knows I’m going home in a few days. 

The house is warm and tastefully decorated in soothing colors. A pale sunshine yellow adorns the walls of the sitting room. The furniture is comfortable more than tasteful. Overstuffed leather couches and easy chairs are dotted about the room. Chris and I flop onto one of the couches. I sigh as I sink into the leather, which is soft and flexible. 

“So Jensen” says Jeff I look up and I don’t like the gleam in his eye “I didn’t realize you were such an accomplished dancer.” and with that everyone breaks down laughing. Chris nearly chokes and I have to pat his back. 

“Sorry” Chris says “I nearly choked on my own saliva.” and that starts everyone off again.

“Thanks Jeff” I grumble “I’m really trying to put my catastrophic dance debut behind me.”

“Aw don’t be embarrassed Jen.” he says as he leaves the room to check on the meal. Incredible aromas fill the house. If I’m not mistaken I can smell pesto. I love pesto. My mouth is watering when Jeff beckons us to the table. I sit next to Chris and Steve is opposite me. Jeff takes the head of the table and Matt sits opposite him. He opens the wine and pours us each a glass. It’s a Pinot Grigio Blush, it’s pink and delicate looking. I take a sip and I immediately like it and nod in approval. 

“It’s my favorite wine” Matt provides “and Jeff says it’ll go great with the food”

Jeff wanders in and out of the kitchen and deposits various dishes on the table. There are garlicky potatoes on one serving platter. They are golden brown, drizzled in oil and sprinkled with herbs. My stomach growls in anticipation. Green beans sit on another platter and the main dish is chicken pesto with little dumplings. They look intriguing. Jeff notices my interest.

“They’re cheese dumplings” he says 

“It all looks delicious” says Steve, and it does

“God and it smells wonderful too” agrees Chris, “we certainly don’t get fed like this on the road”

“Well tuck in then” Jeff offers as he waves his hand over the food.

We don’t need to be told twice, so we pile our plates with aromatic chicken and vegetables. I can smell the basil in the chicken dish before I taste it. 

“Jeff this is so good.” I say as I take another mouthful. 

The table is full of the sounds of eating, drinking and appreciation. Jeff really is an excellent cook.

“So Jeff what are you up to now?” I say as I cut into one of the cheese dumplings, mmm I can taste the fresh parmesan in them. I sigh with pleasure. Jeff notices and laughs.

“I’m still lecturing, just now I’m at UW,” he says between mouthfuls. “I feel settled here.” He takes Matt’s hand and smiles at his partner. I can’t help the small lurch of jealousy but he’s happy, and that makes up for it.

“The weather isn’t so nice here,” I quip.

“Nope, but there are other benefits.” He chuckles and leers at his partner. Matt blushes and pulls his hand away. 

“How about you, Jen; how’s life treating you?” 

Yesterday, I’d be embarrassed to tell him I’m a waiter, but today, somehow I’m not. “I wait tables,” I just come out and say. 

Matt chokes on his mouthful of wine and then looks embarrassed. “Sorry” he says looking awkward.

I smile to let him know it’s alright. “Mom says I’m wasting my brain, but I like it there. They took a chance on me when I got out of hospital…” I taper off then take a deep breath. “They’re like family to me, and maybe I’ve gotten a little complacent there, but Dom has let me take over some of the management duties and I really like it.” I smile to myself not really looking at anyone or anything. I smile because it’s true I like the restaurant business and I’m good at it. Maybe one day I could even buy my own restaurant.

“So Jeff you’ll never guess what Chris got up to in Albuquerque” Steve snorts and then I do too because I’ve heard this story. Chris’ indiscretion with the two groupies. But apparently it’s new to Jeff who chuckles and pats Chris on the back as he goes to get dessert.

“I knew we’d lure you over to the dark side, eh Jensen?” Jeff waggles his eyebrows.

Chris has the good grace to look sheepish. 

“What can I say? she was hot man and she wanted another dude there. It would have been rude to turn her down. And I’m all for experimentation.” 

Jeff produces a gorgeous chocolatey confection. I can remember saying to Jeff that a dessert didn’t deserve the title of dessert if it didn’t contain chocolate. And he’s certainly taken it to heart. 

“Chocolate truffle cheesecake” he proudly announces with a flourish. 

“I think I’ve died and gone to chocolate heaven” I groan and I can hear Chris mutter something similar, when I look at him his eyes are glazed and Steve is looking at the cheesecake with undisguised longing.

“Matt man how are you so slim when you live with Jeff?” Steve asks “I’d be the size of a house and happy about it if I could eat like this all the time.”

“He doesn’t cook like this all the time” Matt laughs “mind you I don’t complain when he does.”

Conversation bubbles on around me and I interject when I feel like it. I feel so comfortable with these people, even Matt. The evening passes quickly and then it’s time to leave and I feel slightly sad; who knows when I’ll next see Jeff. At the door, he pulls me into a hug.

“Let’s not leave it five years this time,” he whispers into my ear. “Oh wait, gimme your phone.” I pass it over and he programs in his number. He even takes a picture of himself and makes it so it will pop up when he calls. It makes me feel lighter somehow.

Matt also hugs me. It’s not as long or tight as Jeff’s, but I appreciate the effort. Chris and Steve shoulder bump Jeff and hug Matt, and then we’re on our way home. I feel mellow from too much good food and fine wine. And I feel happy. It’s an alien emotion to me and I want to nurture it; let it grow. I only have another day in Seattle and I’m going to make the most of it and spend some quality time with Chris.

 

The next day we drive to Vancouver. God help me Chris drives, Steve and Justin seem immune to it. I however wish that I’d taken a valium. I did offer to drive but Chris just waved it off.

“You know I like driving, it relaxes me before a show.” 

So I steel myself and practice my deep breathing, trying to keep my heart rate under control.

I enjoy my stay there almost more than Seattle. I could live here; the city is beautiful, clean and scenic, and the people are so friendly. We sightsee and I watch them give another incendiary show, and almost before I know it, my trip is over. 

Chris drives me to the airport and his driving is almost enough to persuade me to walk everywhere from now on. The trip is accompanied by a soundtrack of screeching brakes, blaring horns, and squealing tires. But my prayers are answered, and we arrive in one piece. 

“Freakin’ drivers,” he complains as we enter the parking garage. “I wonder who taught them to drive?”

“I wonder.” I reply caustically. Chris just smirks back. 

He grabs my case and carries it for me, even though I tell him that I’m not a girl, and I’m not sick.

He hugs me brusquely at the gate and I hug him the same way back. I love Chris so much; he’s always been there for me and this trip was exactly what I needed..

“Your turn to visit me next time, asshole” I smirk, he clips me round the ear then spanks my butt as he pushes me in the direction of the


	10. Chapter 10

 

As I got ready for my first day back to work, I thought about what I really wanted to do with my life. Where do I go from here? 

Suddenly, there were so many thoughts and choices and futures running around my head that I had to sit down and just breathe for a moment. 

Where is my future?

When I was a teenager, I’d wanted to take English at college. I still read a lot. Everything from the newspaper to the classics, as well as trashy novels and the current ‘Great Literary Work’, but I don’t want to study it. Then when Jared disappeared, my thoughts turned to the law, I’d had the experience of being on the outside of the system, and I’d thought learning how to be on the inside would somehow help me search for Jared, so I’d enrolled in pre-law courses. I no longer want to be a lawyer, I no longer need that.  
So what is my life going to be?

What I do enjoy and find exciting is working at the restaurant. 

I love the buzz and the camaraderie, the people, the sounds, the work, the smell… I even love the building’s foot-killing layout. 

And I wasn’t just a server anymore. As time passed Dominic gave me additional responsibilities. I supervised the wait staff, set their schedules and checked their hours, hired them, trained them and would fire them if it ever became necessary. The time Dominic was on holiday, and he’d left me in charge, had been exhilarating.. I’d been really nervous, of course, but it hadn’t been that difficult. I’d had years of tracing and tracking leads all over three states, and I’d already done parts of his job. I’d worked there so long, and taken on so many extra jobs, that ordering and helping Dominic with the books had actually been easy. 

It helped that I had taken a couple of business management courses at the local college. Once I decided that the legal profession wasn’t for me it was a natural progression. And Dominic certainly appreciates the help. 

Dominic had been talking about taking a step back from the restaurant. He was nearing retirement, and his wife always complained that he was hardly ever home. 

_That’s_ what I want to do. I want to manage a restaurant.

When I get to the restaurant, I’ll ask Dominic about training me properly to fill in, and I’ll hint strongly that one day, when he’s ready, I’d like to take over. 

 

I walk to the restaurant, enter in through the back door as always. I say hello to Antonio. When I step into the staff room, I’m mobbed by happy waitresses, all trying to hug me at once. 

“So you missed me then?”

“Yes, it was horrible,” Jada sulked. “I don’t think you should be allowed to leave us again.”

I notice a new face in the crowd. Young and blond, he’s about four or five inches shorter than me, he has one of those faces that always looks happy. I suspect he was one of the agency waiters that Dominic brought in while I was off, which doesn’t explain why he’s still here.

“That’s Ben” says Sarah, she looks sulky too. I can’t work out what’s going on, am I going to be fired?

“Ben” I say and he smiles back at me.

“Hey dude heard a lot about you, apparently I don’t measure up” he says wryly.

“You wouldn’t measure up to Jensen” says Sarah “He’s awesome” and she moves in for another sneaky cuddle. 

“Ah just what I like to see” Dominic’s voice booms “my staff having a love-in”

“Hey Dominic” I smile and I’m starting to feel like I’m home.

“Jensen, good to have you back,” he says “I wanted a quick word with you before you start” and he leads me to his office, his hand heavy on my shoulder. It’s at times like these I realize just what a father figure Dom has been to me. He and his wife Juliet never had children, they weren’t able to conceive. I know he would have been a great dad, he practically is one to me. 

“Look Jensen I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” he sits at his desk and waves in the direction of a chair, I move some paper work, Dominic’s never been over organized, and sit myself down. 

“When you took over running the restaurant you did a really good job”

“Thanks Dominic, I actually wanted to talk to you about that” 

“In a moment” he dismisses “now I don’t want you to get upset” uh oh that doesn’t sound good “but I’m thinking of stepping down from managing the place and automatically I thought of you” I feel excitement well in me, but Dominic looks uncomfortable “unfortunately the backers don’t like it and they want someone with a business degree” he sighs “so that’s why we’ve brought in Ben, he’s been getting to know the business while you’ve been away and now he’s going to take over” Dominic looks unhappy about the whole thing and to be honest I’m not thrilled about it, but I haven’t lost anything so I’m just going to have to suck it up.

“It’s OK Dominic, thanks for thinking about me”

“Aw hell son, if I owned the place outright I would have had no qualms appointing you, but the backers...” he trails off.

“It’s OK” I repeat and get up to crack on with my work.

There was a time Dominic owned the restaurant, but the economic downturn hit him hard and he had to get some financial backing. The restaurant is making a profit again now though so things are looking up. I go back into the dining area to meet my new boss.

“Hey Ben so I hear you’re my new boss,” I say as I hold out my hand. He smiles and grasps it giving my hand a firm shake

“I guess I am,” he replies. I look at him, and he’s so young--he can’t be more than 23. I hope he’s going to be good at his job but I can’t help but worry, he looks so green. The girls aren’t happy about it, but I suspect that’s just because they are being faithful to me. 

Dominic follows me out and announces that he’s retiring. It’s not a surprise but it still dampens the mood. It’s like our little family is breaking up. I’m pleased for Dominic and his wife. They deserve to have some time together. But I’m sad for the rest of us. Even Antonio seems sad, and he and Dominic have had a few fiery spats. He spends his last couple of months showing Ben the ropes but I help out where I can. He seems like a decent guy, but he’s a bit too nervous about making decisions. 

When Dominic leaves it’s anti-climatic. We wanted to have a party but Dom threatened to fire us if we made too much of a fuss. So Jada made a red velvet cake and we sat around after hours and had a few drinks. 

“I know you said no fuss but we bought you a little gift” I say as I give Dominic the prettily wrapped present. 

Dominic sighs in exasperation.

“I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I realized early on that the way to get you guys to do something is to tell you not to do it” 

Antonio snorts as he takes another mouthful of cake.

“Jada you must give me this recipe, it’s so good.” Jada looks pleased, and we all watch as Dom opens his gift. 

“What the hell?” he removes the tasteless tartan, golfers hat that we had bought. I found it online at a golfing shop. Worryingly I think it is an actual golfing cap and not just a novelty. Dominic puts it on, making sure it’s at a jaunty angle. I choke on my beer, I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous. 

“Okay guys, enough jokes at my expense.” he chuckles but I notice he doesn’t remove the hat. 

“Aw Dom we know you like your golf, so we actually got you a real present.” I hand him an envelope, we got him some vouchers for the local golf shop. He can buy whatever he wants to feed his new golfing addiction. Dom takes a deep breath, he looks overcome by emotion and to be honest so am I. It feels like the end of an era. It feels too much like goodbye. 

As the evening ends, the girls get hugs and kissed cheeks. Antonio, Mike and I get manly hugs and pats on the back. Finally Ben gets a handshake, and a warning to look after his staff. And then he leaves and everything changes.

Ben takes over. It isn’t a smooth transition.

“What would you do?” he asks when the produce man fails to deliver the right potatoes.

I’d make the damn decision myself, I think unkindly.

“I’d go to the market, and buy what I can. There’s a good farmers market over by Klein and Were.” After I got back from Seattle I spent some time exploring the local farmers markets. The one I mentioned was the best I found locally, it wasn’t a patch on Pike Market, but the produce was fresh and organic.

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” he stammers.

“I’d also see if I could source some of the produce from there on a regular basis; our regular guy is getting unpredictable,” I continue.

“Yes. Good idea.” He looks at me and there’s panic in his eyes. 

I’ve known for a while that he’s really not up to the job. He’s a nice guy but just not suited, and to be honest, I’m doing the job for him. I’m just not getting the recognition or pay. He knows it too, I can see by the way he looks at me, and the embarrassed color in his cheeks.

“Would you like me to go down and see what I can sort out?” I ask. His relief looks so much like a cartoon character’s that I can’t help smiling. I grab my jacket, and the restaurant’s credit card, but when turn to leave Dominic is standing in the door.

“Ben, a word,” he says. “Jensen wait here”

Ben looks mortified, but follows Dominic into the office. I can’t hear what’s going on, but I suspect it isn’t good news for Ben. When he comes out of the office he looks a little pale and dejected.

“He wants to see you now, Jensen,” he says.

I walk into the office, not really sure what to expect. Dominic looks grim and he’s pacing, which is never a good combination.

“Jensen, we both know the job should have been yours. I dropped the ball here,” he says, still pacing weaving between the piles of paperwork that just seem to get bigger. I’d really love to organize this room. “I should have stood up to the backers, and demanded you be manager. No more! I just told Ben that the manager’s job is yours if you want it.” He stops pacing, and turns to look at me. “You do want it, don’t you?”

”Hell, yeah! I want it.” Actually, I do a little happy dance, then feel embarrassed but Dom just shakes his head and tries not to smile. “What about Ben?”

“I’ve said he can stay and learn from you, if he wants, but he’ll have to be a waiter first and foremost. He said he’d think about it.” Dominic sighs “I should have trusted my gut.”

My face is hurting and I realize it’s because I’m smiling so widely. I try to stop but I just can’t, I have the job I want. Screw the face pain I smile even more broadly when I realize I’ll have a large raise in pay. That means it’s time to look for a new apartment. Everything is falling into place.

Getting the new job is another turning point in my life, this time a good one.

My mom is so proud of me. She and Isaac help me search for an apartment. I spend hours poring over the local paper and circling the possibilities. This time I want it to be perfect. So we visit and discard a lot of choices. Some are too small, or are on noisy roads. Others have damp or are just plain dingy. Eventually we visit one on Elm. The realtor, a portly lady with bright red hair, lets us in. Immediately her voice fades out as I’m taken in by the light streaming through the windows, by the wood paneling and original moldings. It’s beautiful and I want it. The realtor’s voice eventually penetrates my musing. She tells us that the apartment is owned by an elderly lady who is no longer able to live alone. She has gone to live with her daughter.  
“I’ll take it” I blurt out and a huge grin breaks out on the realtor’s round face.

“You’ve made the right choice,” she announces “a place like this won’t be on the market long.”

Mom is looking around, opening doors, and admiring the sash windows. Isaac is checking the solidity of the worktops and turning the taps on to check for leaks. They both turn and nod, almost in synch. 

“Where do I sign?” I laugh, and as she goes off to prepare the paperwork Mom, Isaac and I go to the local coffee shop to celebrate. 

Moving is remarkably easy. I don’t have a lot of stuff as I rented my old apartment fully furnished. So a couple of car trips and I’m moved in. Of course my new place is empty until the couch, bed and assorted furniture is delivered. But once it is, it feels like home. 

Mom buys me a plant and I adopt a kitten. I call him Scruffy. He has fur that is mussed and goes in all directions, he kinda makes me think of Jared. But in a good way. Scruffy is always pleased to see me and he waits at the door for my return then winds his way around my legs tripping me as I try to enter the apartment. I love that kitty! He sleeps with me too, well I couldn’t resist his cute little face, how could I possibly say no?

I’m dragging myself in from work, it’s late and I’m so tired. Nothing went right tonight. The customer’s were awkward, Sarah was in a mood and Antonio was fit to kill someone. I felt like I was wrangling cattle. I can’t wait to have a bath and a beer. But the phone’s ringing so I kick off my shoes and grab the handset as I collapse onto the couch.

“‘Lo,” I murmur, exhausted.

“Hello you” Comes Jeff’s bright voice. I feel warmth seep through me and my tired body feels slightly invigorated. 

“Hey Jeff” I put my feet up on the sofa and can’t mask my sigh as the steady thrumming ache subsides a little.

“Hard day?” 

“Mmm, busy. Jada had a migraine so I had to send her home, so the rest of us took up the slack.”

“Poor you,” he murmurs, his voice soothing me “I won’t keep you long, I’m just ringing with some news. Matt and I are getting married.” What? I perk up.

“Wow, congratulations, when’s the big day?”

“Not until June. We’ve got a fair bit of organizing to do. I’ll get your invite in the post. I hope your gonna come.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it, give my congratulations to Matt too.” 

“I’m going to let you go, you sound wiped. Have a good sleep and I’ll talk to you soon.”

I hang up, and drag myself to the kitchen to grab a beer and then head to the bathroom. I undress as the bath fills, then get in and let the warm water soak away my aches. The beer makes me sleepy and relaxed. I feel the odd twinge of jealousy, because I love Jeff, but I’m a better man now, and I’ve lived through worse. By the time the water is cooling I’m reconciled to the fact that he’s marrying and I feel nothing but happiness for him. I dry myself and fall into bed naked, sleeping soundly until morning. 

 

I’ve met a guy, his name is Kevin. He lives in the same building as me and I keep bumping into him when I get my post.

“Hey Jen, do you want to grab a coffee?” Kevin calls as I’m leaving the building to get some shopping. 

“Sure.” I love coffee, and the supermarket will still be there after my caffeine fix. As we wander through the neighborhood Kevin tells me about his job.

“Middle management,” he shrugs, “I’ll be first to go in the cut backs. I’m looking for something else, but so is everyone else.”

It’s hard times, you can tell by the worn, rundown appearance of some of the houses we pass, or the boarded up shops. 

Bean There Done That, the local coffee shop is full of customers, almost snubbing it’s nose at the recession. We pick a table and order some drinks.

“Jen?” Kevin starts and then looks a little embarrassed before he rushes on “Would you consider coming out on a date with me?” 

I didn’t expect that and I feel suddenly tongue tied. I don’t know what to say. I look at him. He’s older than me, I think he’s actually older than Jeff. He’s not what you would call traditionally good looking, he has old acne scars on his face, but he has the most amazing eyes, so kind and expressive. But do I want to date him? To be honest the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. I like him, and I can see him as a friend but I don’t want to date him. I don’t want to date anyone. 

“Oh.” he says looking down at the table and shredding the sugar packet. ‘Oh God, I knew it. I knew you were out of my league,’ he groans.

I reach over and put my hand on his arm, ‘What do you mean? You’re not out of my league. You’re great. I just don’t ...’ 

‘I know you just want to be friends’ he says resignedly 

“Yes I do.” I say brightly, “and do you know what? I don’t make friends easily. I like you and I want to be your friend. That’s a big step for me.” That makes him smile and he reaches over and kisses me briefly on the lips. It’s nice, but I don’t want to rip his clothes off, so I know I’ve made the right decision. 

He smiles, and although it isn’t the big smile I normally see on his face at least it seems genuine. “You can never have too many friends.” and all I feel is grateful that I didn’t screw up our friendship.

 

Early in May, I get a call from Chris to let me know the wedding is off. Matt was moved from the Seattle office to New York, and news is, he started a relationship with another man almost as soon as he got there. Jeff is upset, but he’s dealing. 

‘Do we need to find Matt and kick his ass?’ I ask, and Chris laughs. I am not a violent person. I wouldn’t know how to kick someone’s ass and he knows it.

“Nah,” he says, still chuckling. “ Apparently, the relationship was on the way out already. That’s why Matt took the job.”

“But they were getting married!” It doesn’t make sense to me.

“Jeff says it was a last ditch attempt to save the relationship.” I can practically hear Chris rubbing his stubbled jaw. “That’s not a good reason to get hitched.” That’s true. Like people thinking having kids is going to fix their marriage, it very rarely does.

“How’s Jeff doing,” I ask. “ He hasn’t called or anything.” 

“Jeff’s okay,” Chris replies. “Like I said, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.’ 

We talk a little more about the band and how I’ve been hearing his songs on the radio, but I can’t help but worry about Jeff.

I call him, but he doesn’t pick up. I leave just a brief message to let him know that I’m there if he needs me. I bite my lips against offering to go up. I’d like to, but it would be a bad idea. He’s single now, technically available, but it’s too soon. 

I don’t hear back from him, which is upsetting but I keep myself busy at work until the urgency fades.


	11. Chapter 11

 

Work goes well; I enjoy being the manager and the staff seem to think I’m doing okay at it. Having extra money is a novelty. Even with the new apartment, I’ve managed to save a good amount. Now, I have to decide what to do with it. Chris suggests that I take a vacation. I admit the idea is appealing, but I have commitments at work. Maybe next year. Isaac thinks I should invest and offers to set me up with his broker. Then Dominic suggests that I can buy into the business. I don’t have to think about it—it’s perfect. 

But before I can enjoy being a businessman, there’s lawyers and paperwork to contend with. I sign my name so many times my hand is cramping. Then finally it’s done. Contracts and agreements are sealed and registration documents are filed. Then I’m part owner of a thriving restaurant; I never thought this would happen to me. 

Chris and Steve come to help celebrate with me. , They come to The Mission and are photographed. It makes the front page of the entertainment section of the paper, and suddenly we’re sold out on a nightly basis. It’s amazing what a bit of celebrity support can do for you. 

It’s a bit disturbing to be honest. We pride ourselves on being a good, niche restaurant with exceptional food. One of the best kept secrets in town. Now all of a sudden we are flavor of the month and although the publicity has certainly helped our profit margin I can’t help but worry about the long term. Will the new customers chase away our regulars, who have been faithful to us for years. I hope not. I’d rather serve old Bill Rogers, who’s visited us practically every Sunday for as long as I’ve been here. He’s only missed one, and that was when his wife Judy died. Now he comes alone. The new customers only come because they’re hoping to see a celebrity. They’re going to be sorely disappointed. 

Christmas is fast approaching and Mom and Isaac have invited me to come for dinner. The restaurant is closed between Christmas day and New Year. Reopening on New Year’s Eve. I love my mom’s turkey so it’s no hardship to visit her.  
I’m salivating at the thought of mom’s turkey and homemade stuffing. I can almost smell and taste it. I am so looking forward to Christmas dinner. 

It’s three days before Christmas and I’m working front of house at the restaurant. It’s incredibly busy. I’m helping Mike direct people to their tables but I’m keenly aware that Jada and Sarah are rushed off their feet. I may have to help wait too. I need for everything to run smoothly. I’m shocked to the core when Jeff wanders in. He’s all smiles and warmth, and before I can censor myself, I’ve jumped into his arms and he’s hugging back for all he’s worth. 

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out. “I’m so very pleased to see you and all...I’m just surprised,” I continue. Jeff’s face is a picture. He looks bemused at my rambling.

“Jensen,” he growls and my knees go weak--I’ve always thought he has the sexiest, growliest voice. “I’ve come to visit you of course. I’ve always wanted to visit Texas.”

“Wow.” I’d forgotten that. “How long can you stay?”

“Well, until after New Year’s, if that’s okay?” he asks. He looks concerned, as if I might not want him here. For a clever man he can still be an idiot sometimes.

“Of course, I want you here. It would have been just me and the cat otherwise. I’m supposed to go to Mom’s for Christmas dinner. I’m sure she won’t mind if you come, too,” I finally have to pause for breath. “You won’t mind Christmas dinner with my mom, will you?” 

“I love your mom,” and it’s true he does. They’ve kept in contact over the years. Enough that I sometimes think mom likes him more than me!

The girls are looking over at us inquisitively but it’s Mike who comes over and demands an introduction, subtlety is not his middle name. But his eyes are sparkling and I’m sure he’s relieved that I’m not going to be alone over the festive period. 

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, I’m Mike,” he extends his hand and Jeff grasps it, I watch them shake hands, it’s a bit like a bid for dominance. They are each grasping the others hand slightly harder than necessary. I can tell by the whitening around their knuckles. 

“Jeff, nice to meet you Mike.”

“You too, Jensen doesn’t bring many friends over to the restaurant.” Mike allows.

“And can you imagine why?” I snort nodding at Mike’s tight grasp on Jeff’s hand.

“Oops” Mike’s never sounded more British than with that one word. “Sorry, I got carried away. So Jeffrey,” Mike continues, and I’m cringing already “Are you staying with our boy, or are you getting a hotel” I hadn’t even considered that.

“You’re going to stay with me, aren’t you? I have a spare room now.”

Jeff smiles and nods, he looks a little overwhelmed; Mike does have that effect on people. 

As Mike is leaving, he leans forward and whispers something in Jeff’s ear. I don’t hear what was said but I can guess, probably something along the lines of “don’t hurt him”. I hide a smile as I direct Jeff to a table. “I don’t finish for a couple of hours,” I say. “So why don’t you have something to eat and then we can go back to my place?”

I ask Sarah to take good care of him, and she is maybe a little too attentive. I can’t blame her; Jeff has only improved with age. I watch them flirt harmlessly with each other as I work. Jeff’s hair is a little grayer now, and he has a few more wrinkles around his eyes, but to be honest I think he looks better, hotter. He’s broad at the shoulders and built like a man. He maybe has a slight softness around the middle, and it’s weird, but I like it. It makes a man cuddlier. I realize what I’m thinking and wonder if I’ve become a sap in my old age. Or maybe it’s just Jeff.

I manage to stop by Jeff’s table a few times during the night, we don’t really have much time to chat. I’m both helping to serve and sorting out problems in the Kitchen. Antonio has a new deputy chef and they clashed over marjoram of all things. Chefs!

“Mmm Jen this food is great” Jeff says as I pass the table with some dirty plates. “I’m going to have to get some tips from your chef.” he raises one eyebrow, “and maybe some recipes.”

I can’t stop my snort, there’s no way Antonio will let anyone have his super secret recipes. 

Later as we close up the restaurant, Jeff tries to pry some details out of Antonio but he remains tight lipped, but his eyes sparkle and I can tell he’s pleased with the attention and compliments. I’m helping the others clear up and Jeff helps although I try to wave him off. Then with tips shared out we lock up and leave. I was expecting to walk home, as I again chose my new apartment to be close to the restaurant. But Jeff has a rental car and drives us back. I look at him as he drives. The light that seeps into car lights him up intermittently. I find myself looking at his forearms, that’s the part of a man I find most sexy and Jeff’s are a work of art. He smirks as he catches me looking at him. I feel a little nervous, mainly because I’m not sure what Jeff is expecting: friendship, sex, or a combination of both.

I make coffee when we get home as Jeff explores the apartment and comments on the decor, it feels strangely domestic, and I like it. 

“Jeff’, I start but I don’t know what to say, so I just look at him. He seems to understand as he comes over and takes my hand.

”This isn’t a booty call,” he says, and I choke. He smiles. “Or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays. Just wanted to see you. That’s okay isn’t it?”

“Of course. It’s just that everything between us it’s all so...ill defined.” I manage.

“You don’t have to define things, Jensen. When you define something, you’re setting limits on it.” I look at him quizzically. “Well, we’re friends,” he continues. “But nothing is set in stone, Jensen. Things evolve and change. I hope that our relationship will evolve.”

He caresses my hand and I hope that our relationship “evolves” and quickly--god, I’m a slut for him. Unfortunately, he hasn’t finished talking.

“But I don’t want to rush things—“ 

Damn 

“—because I like you; I like you a lot. When I was with Matt,” he says and a sad look passes over his face. ”When we met up again, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I loved Matt, but he knew that you had a part of my heart, too.” 

My heart is beating so fast I think I may faint--Jeff feels the same way about me. My body wants to jump him. In fact, I want him buried so deep in me that we feel like one person, but my mind agrees with him; we should take things slowly. It’s been years so what’s a few more weeks or months (please, not months). We need to make sure we do it right this time. I have to make sure I do it right this time.

Jeff pulls me into his arms and kisses me gently on the mouth. It’s warm and wet and a lot like coming home. I sigh into his mouth and he groans softly. He intensifies the kiss before pulling away with a frustrated moan. 

“You would lead a priest to sin,” he grumbles and I smile--I feel exactly the same about him. 

Instead of more kissing, we snuggle down on the couch and watch some late night TV. Whatever show is on, the details are lost in my enjoyment of the warmth of his body against mine and the tickle of his breath against my ear. 

“You okay, Jen?” he asks. 

“Mmmm, yeah,” I murmur. My body feels heavy and I can feel myself drifting.

“You seem to be doing much better,” he continues.

Damn him for dragging me out of my comfortable stupor.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like I’m just getting by anymore.” I turn slightly, so I can catch his eye. “Meeting up with you last year was a turning point for me, to be honest.”

He smiles at that. “I’m glad.” He snuggles in close, resting my head under his chin. It’s the last thing I remember until I feel Jeff nudging me. “Come on, sweetheart, I think it’s time for bed.”

Grumbling, I let him help me up. I lead him to my room; I don’t even consider sending him to the guest room and he doesn’t mention it, either. 

I undress slowly, peeling off until I’m down to my boxers. I don’t want to give Jeff any ideas. Well, I do but we’ve already agreed that it’s not time yet. Still, I can feel his eyes roaming over my body. I’m in better shape now than when he last saw me naked, so I hope he finds me pleasing. I don’t turn to see his reaction because the atmosphere is already incredibly charged. So I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth I feel Jeff behind me his arms around my stomach. It feels good to have his hands on my naked stomach. Too good, I moan and drop my head back against his chest. 

“So do you have a spare toothbrush” he rumbles and I feel the vibrations run down my body. Damn him and his sexy voice. I manage a nod and he kisses me on the cheek, pulling away. I feel my body chill at his absence. But I’m so tired that I just open the bathroom cabinet and hand him a new toothbrush. Then head to bed climbing under the covers. Jeff follows me, moments behind, pulling me close, tucking my head on his shoulder and nestling his chin in my hair.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be held this way.

Jared often held me like this as I drifted off to sleep. Those were some of the best times we had together, feeling warm and loved and wanted. Lying here with Jeff, I feel the same things, loved, wanted and safe. 

I also feel aroused, damn my traitorous body.

My cock, that I had long thought indifferent to everyone, is stirring in my shorts. I try to ignore it by snuggling tighter into Jeff’s arms, but that brings me into contact with Jeff’s arousal. It lies hard and warm against my hip. He doesn’t make a move either. I’m comfortable, warm and drowsy, and my last coherent thought is of Jeff.

Morning announces itself with the sun sneaking into my room and moving slowly across the floor. I lie in Jeff’s arms, refusing to move. I want to enjoy the calm of the moment. I feel wonderful I don’t know what today will bring. But right here, right now, everything is perfect.

Before too long I feel Jeff nuzzling at my neck and I know he’s awake. Chuckling, I turn in his arms so we can spend several long minutes lazily making out. I had forgotten what a good kisser he is. He enthralls me and it’s wonderful. I can’t think of anything but Jeff, Jeff, Jeff. He’s my mantra, it’s almost like being a teenager again, the way we’re both so careful to keep it above the waist. It makes me so hard I think I may burst. It also relaxes me, knowing that we’re not going to rush things. 

Later I shower alone. It’s not that I don’t want Jeff with me, but I wouldn’t be able to control myself if he was here. I can imagine him now; all naked and wet and manly. I drop my hand to my cock and tease for a moment. Then ignoring my erection I wash and quickly dress. The next time I come I want it to be with Jeff and that thought makes me smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve eve, today.” I tell a confused looking Jeff. “That’s what we’ve always called it, Mom and me.” I’m fidgeting and jittery, my foot’s tapping and I can’t seem to sit still. I think it’s excitement more than nerves this time. 

I’ve yet to finish my shopping. So I drag Jeff to the the West Village, and we wander in and out of the stores. I pick up some funky earrings for the girls . We found them in a little independent shop full of interesting jewelry. Jeff bought himself a little diamond stud for his ear. It looks good. I also got some novelty cufflinks for Dominic in the shape of golf clubs. For Mike I got a copy of the DVD of Mrs Browns Boys, we both loved that show and were always quoting from it. 

“Mrs. Brown’s Boys, I’ve never heard of it” Jeff said confused looking at the cover.

What? “It’s only the funniest show I’ve ever seen,” I pick up another box set, “we’ll need to do something in the evenings if we’re not having sex.”

Jeff swats me “I’m hoping we will be having sex... soon” Oh god me too!

“Well while we’re waiting and being good, I will introduce you to Mrs Brown and her boys.”

“Deal.” he puts his arm around me as we wander from shop to shop until we find an old fashioned delicatessen. There I bought a Texas food gift basket for Chris and Steve and Jeff just had to buy one for his mom too. Later I found a lovely sweater and scarf for my mom. I was stumped about what to buy for Isaac and I hadn’t bought anything for Jeff, obviously. 

“You don’t need to buy me anything, sweetheart,” Jeff said as we wandered over to a coffee stand and ordered us two Americanos. 

“Of course, I have to get you something--it’s Christmas.” He gave me a look as if to say, I know that, dumbass..

“I just want to get you something to open on Christmas day.” I pout although I try not to, after all I’m a grown man. But it just makes him laugh so I don’t feel so bad.

“You’re so cute,” he says. He leans over, and kisses me on the lips. I’m a little surprised and have to look around to see if anyone has noticed. He watches me for a moment and then does it again. I quite like it and I don’t care who’s watching. I smile at him in appreciation. His eyes are so brown like chocolate and he’s looking at me with such intensity that I shift closer and kiss him back. 

The rest of the day passes in a round of shopping and eating, and then we end the day in at Malai Kitchen and enjoy some spicyThai food. 

“I have to work tomorrow” I moan. “It’s Christmas Eve and it’s always busy.” Most years, I haven’t minded working, but most years I don’t have a gorgeous man waiting for me at home. 

“Poor baby” he shushes. “You work hard and I’ll cook for you. What time will you get home?”

“Midnight,” I sulk.

“Excellent!” he says. “We can have an early Christmas, before we snuggle up in bed. A light supper, a little wine, and we can open our presents, what do you think?” 

I’m thinking my man’s a genius. 

Work passes quickly mainly because we are so busy. I had managed to nip out and pick up a present for Jeff. Though, I’m not sure he’ll appreciate the ‘Everything’s Bigger in Texas’ T-shirt, I hope he appreciates the thought.

There are no last minute catastrophes, nothing that stops us from closing at our normal time, but I still breathe a sigh of relief as we shepherd the stragglers out the door. We don’t even bother cleaning much, not tonight. Instead, we swap gifts, and I give and receive many Christmas kisses and hugs. . 

The girls want to sit around and chat, but they don’t have a hot man waiting for them. They laugh at my obvious impatience, but they also shoo me off home. So I just rush home, practically running I’m so excited. In fact, it’s the first time in years that I’ve been excited about Christmas. 

Jeff looks up from his seat on the couch when I open the door. He has on little half-moon reading glasses and he takes my breath away. He’s also wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt, which I wouldn’t notice on anyone else, but the jeans and t-shirt hug him in all the right places. And he’s barefoot. 

There’s something about seeing him barefoot that equates in my mind to vulnerability. Seeing a strong man allowing himself to be vulnerable is… I don’t know exactly, but what I do know is it’s damn sexy. Before my conscious brain wakes up I’m on his lap, straddling him. I’ve got my mouth on his and his hands are on my ass. The air is full of harsh breaths and our lips are wet and needy. I’m rubbing and gyrating against him in desperation, but oh God, it’s good. It’s been years since I had sex and Jeff was the last person who touched me this way. He was the last person who made me feel this way. He was the last person to make me want… anything.

Oh, I just want to go on kissing him forever. 

With a frustrated moan, Jeff pulls his mouth away., Looking up at me, he growls. He puts a hand against my chest to stop me moving in to kiss him again.

“Jen,” he says hoarsely. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you, too,” I pant, 

“I don’t want to rush this; I want this to be something. I want this to last,” he says   
I rest my forehead against his. “I want that, too.” We both sigh, but I climb off him. Hard and frustrated but I’m also thrumming with hope.

This being mature sucks.


	12. Chapter 12

 

It’s just after midnight, which means it’s Christmas day. The lights on my small tree are twinkling. There’s a small pile of presents under it and the atmosphere is very festive. I wasn’t going to get a tree because I was going to Mom’s but I went with Sarah to help her with hers and I ended up buying one too. I’m glad I did.

Shyly, Jeff gives me a present. It’s a fairly big box, and rather heavy, but what I really notice is how beautifully it’s wrapped. I wonder whether he got the store clerk to wrap it or if he took the time and trouble to do it himself.

“Nice job with the wrapping.” I say but Jeff doesn’t respond he just gives me a small smile. 

I open it carefully and then I stare at it. It’s a photo album. It’s probably the last thing I expected to receive from anybody.

It’s also a gorgeous album. Bound in hand-worked leather, that’s dyed a rich, burgundy, there’s a brass metal lock which opens with a click. When I flip it open, it takes my breath away. 

Somehow, Jeff got hold of photos of me and Jared—lots of them. The album is filled with the story of our relationship. There’s us, naked in the bath when we were about two. There’s Jared and me when we were five, sitting in the garden covered in mud. Jared’s eyes are sparkling under his unruly bangs. He was such a cute kid, but even so young he was full of mischief. A few pages later, and there are the two of us at thirteen in our Boy Scout uniforms. Jared is all arms and legs because he’d hit a growth spurt and it had left him skinny as a streak of piss. A few pages later, he’s filling out, growing into his height. 

All the photos have the same Jared smile. It was all encompassing, because he smiled with his whole face… Hell, with his whole body and it had been contagious. Even now with the years distancing us, I can’t resist smiling when I see him beaming from the photos. 

I look up at Jeff. He’s chewing his lip nervously. I give him a reassuring smile, even though tears are pricking at my eyes. It’s bittersweet to see Jared again, but this was the most thoughtful present anyone has ever given me. Most people want me to put my life with Jared in a box. They want me to lock it and hide it away so that I can ‘get on with my life’. As if denying Jared will make me forget him. It won’t. Nothing can, but they all want me to try.

Except Jeff, apparently.

 

I turn a few more pages and suddenly there are other people in the photos. There’s Chris and I at college. It’s followed by one of Jeff and I. Then there’s the three of us. 

It’s not very subtle, but I smile anyway. Jeff is showing me that life goes on. That it’s okay to remember, as long as you keep on living. 

I reach over the album to cup his face and pull him in for a soft kiss. A gentle life affirming kiss. 

“Thanks. This is the best present I have ever received.” Then, before I can actually cry, I raise an eyebrow quizzically and ask him in stern tones: “Did you chat up my mom for those photos?”

“I didn’t have to chat up your mom; she loves me.” he responds, giving me his own soft smile. “I’m glad you like it. Now where’s my present, bitch?”

 

I snigger and pass him his gift.“It’s not as good as the one you got me,” 

He gives me a swat and takes the present. “It could be pair of socks and I’d still love it.”

“Damn, how did you guess?” 

He snorts “You know, I’ll love whatever you give me” He smooches me again, then rips open the package and giggles when he sees the shirt. I swear this big manly man giggles like a girl. The sound is completely contagious and then before I know what’s going on we are both rolling around on the couch gasping for breath because we can’t stop laughing.

“I know some things that are definitely bigger in Texas.” He leers at me

“Stop you’re making me blush.” I shoulder bump him but I’m secretly quite pleased with the compliment.

Jeff didn’t cook--the dirty liar--but after spending an evening around food, I wasn’t in the mood anyway. We spend an hour or so drinking beer and eating nibbles. Later, we stagger off to bed. We fall into it in a tangle of limbs, and I’m asleep before I can try to take advantage of him.

Christmas day dawns bright and with a slight chill in the air. I’m already so comfortable waking up in Jeff’s arms, and it makes me sad to think that there’s only a few more days of this. I chase away those thoughts by rolling over and admiring my man as he sleeps. He looks younger, even with the greying stubble peppering his cheeks and chin. I want to nuzzle it, and because it’s Christmas, and because I’ve been a very good boy, I indulge that wish. I rub my cheek against his, feel the rasp of his stubble against mine. It’s a sensual experience, both in the feel of it and in the scent of him, all musky and masculine. He stirs, but I don’t stop. I can feel his smile against my cheek. I look up and he hasn’t even opened his eyes. 

“I could get used to this,” he mumbles, his voice sleep raspy

“You like this” I ask innocently as I rub myself against him again, enjoying his unique aroma.

“What’s not to like about a hot guy waking me by rubbing up against me.” His words, and the dirty connotation, zip through me, making arousal tingle in all the right places.

“You’re so bad,” I snort in self-defense. “I was innocently petting you, in a completely non-sexual way.”

He opens one eye and looks at me skeptically. “Oh, Jen. Whenever you touch me, it feels sexual.” He pulls me forward into a kiss. His hands run up and down my back, tracing my muscles and ribs, and then dipping into my boxers. 

“Jen,” he breaks off to gasp, and his lips are on me again, demanding and possessive. I open to him and his tongue is in my mouth and he starts an erotic dance with mine. 

My hands are everywhere. I can’t decide whether I want to touch his chest, his arms, or his ass, so I just let them roam at will. When I feel his hand sneaking into my boxers, my cock twitches in anticipation. When his hand grasps my cock, it takes my breath away. It’s been so long since anyone but me has touched me there, that my senses feel like they’re overloading. 

He has one hand on my cock and the other is pulling my shorts down, I help him by wriggling then kicking them off, I reach and yank at his until we are both naked and there’s nothing better than rubbing my naked body against his. 

“Jeff,” I moan, and how I manage that level of coherence, I do not know. My fingers are on his chest and I trace a nipple, feeling it harden and hearing his harsh gasp. It makes me shiver with the feeling of power. I’m about to move my head down to take it into my mouth when Jeff, the bastard, pulls on my cock. I lose the ability to think, to plan, to do anything but lay back and let myself drown in sensation. 

Jeff’s working my cock in just the right way. Firm but slow, eking out every moment of pleasure. Then he adds a twist to the motion and I can’t hold back a moan. I can feel myself leaking precum and it lubricates his fist, adding to the sensations. He reaches back with his other hand and caresses my buttocks. His touch is feather light and makes me shiver. Then his finger slips into my crack and my hole twitches with need. 

God I want him! 

I’m afraid to say it, in case Jeff becomes all noble again and stops. So I just moan and press back against his finger. It’s clear to me that being around Jeff releases my inner wanton and I’m most definitely not ashamed of that. He teases around my hole, making me sweat and shiver, making me need this so badly. Then he enters me. 

His finger is dry, and it’s been so long since I’ve been penetrated, that there’s a drag and not a little pain, but I want this, so I push back to encourage him. It hurts. I hiss softly, but he hears me.

“Lube?” he grits out, carefully removing his finger from me.

“Drawer,” I manage. I twist my upper body around, contortionist style, and manage to grab the lube. I don’t want Jeff to stop doing what he’s doing with those wonderful hands, not even for a moment. I’ve got the cap off and ready when he removes his finger, and I liberally cover it and it’s partners in lube. 

“Can’t be too careful,” I say as casually as I can. “I’m going to need all the prep I can get.” I can’t look at Jeff as I say it, but he understands anyway. When he reinserts his finger, he does it gently, slowly pressing against the sides, letting my body adjust. It does feel better now. It feels a lot better, and I have no trouble relaxing as it glides in and out Then Jeff hits my prostate, and I just want him in me right the fuck now. 

“Jeff,” I gasp. “I need you.” I’m panting and keening, because it’s amazing the control he has over me.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs in my ear. ”Soon. Soon I’ll be in you, filling you. You want that, don’t you.” He’s not asking, which is good because I couldn’t answer anyway. 

The bastard knows I want it, fucker. And I’m about to tell him that when he hits my prostate again, and all I can do is whine in need. He chuckles, and I should be pissed, but the sound is so dirty it just adds to my arousal. I don’t know how many fingers he has in me now, I lost count. I feel stuffed full though; surely I’m ready.

“Jeff,” I try again. “I need you.”

“You got me,” he says, and removes his fingers. He rummages in my drawer for a condom.

It was a good job I bought some supplies when I got Jeff’s Christmas present. I wasn’t sure I would need them but a responsible gay man should always be prepared.  
Jeff rolls the condom on with one hand and teases my dick with the other. He keeps up a steady growl of filthy encouragement. I swear, if Jeff’s law gig ever falls through then the man has a future in porn. I’m pleading and begging him to hurry the hell up and just fuck me already.

With a liberal coating of lube applied Jeff turns to me and looks at me. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me that way before. He looks at me as if I am the whole world to him. His eyes are wide, as if he can’t believe he’s here with me, but there’s a softness too. It makes me feel worthy, it makes me feel... loved. 

He slowly moves his lips to mine, watching me all the way, and only closing his eyes at the final moment. Nothing in my life has ever felt so intimate, and I melt, just like in the romance novels my mom used to read. . 

Jeff is kissing me gently, just teasing at my lips as he moves between my spread legs, maneuvering my knees over his elbows. Then he reaches down, and I feel him blunt and uncompromising at my entrance. I take a deep breath in preparation, and I feel him enter me, slowly and carefully. 

For all the preparation we’ve done, it still hurts, I’m so tight around him I can feel every vein and ridge of his penis. but I push the pain to one side and concentrate on the other sensations: Jeff’s lips on mine, his chest moving against mine, the musky scent of him, and the exquisite pain as he slides home. He pulls his mouth away and looks at me again, assessingly. A couple sharp breaths and I can nod in answer to his unasked question. He starts to move, firm and steady. The pain diminishes quickly, or maybe I don’t care because I’m aware that we are together--joined together, moving together. He sets a smooth rhythm, rocking into me, hitting my prostate frequently and making me moan. My cock is trapped between our bodies and it’s stimulated with every motion 

“I’m not going to last” I gasp as he hits my prostate firmly sending sparks throughout my whole body. Sex has never been this all encompassing before.

Jeff is moaning with me, and his thrusts are becoming erratic,so maybe I’m not the only one. 

“Jen, fuck,” he moans. ”So tight, missed you so much.”

His words don’t make a whole lot of sense but kudos to him for being able to speak. I just manage to breath his name as I come.

Jeff gives a strangled cry as I contract around him and I feel a gush of warmth inside. Arms shaking, Jeff finally collapses on top of me. 

“Best sex ever,” is my last thought before sleep overtakes me. It must have been out only minutes before Jeff wakes me by trying to slip out of me. He’s trying not to wake me, but my body hurts now I don’t have arousal to dampen the pain. 

“Shh,” he soothes when I mutter at him in protest. I watch him take the condom into the bathroom, then my eyelids drift back down. As long as I don’t move, I feel fantastic.

He mops me with a towel then he climbs over me and scoots across the bed to spoon behind me. I lean back against him and positively melt into his embrace.


	13. Chapter 13

 

We manage some sleep, and I awaken to the most amazing feeling of warm, wet suction on my cock. 

“Oh my God” I gasp my eyes still closed as I let sensation take over my whole body. Starting from my cock and radiating outwards until I can feel Jeff all the way to my finger tips. I can hear him slurping and I’m trying not to buck into his mouth. But he grabs my ass and encourages me to thrust and I’m only too happy to oblige. Then his fingers are insinuating themselves between my cheeks. They are already slippery with lube, he must have planned this, but I’m not complaining. The complete opposite in fact. He slips in as I’m still loose from last night’s activities.

“Jeff, Jeff” his name is like a mantra. I can feel my orgasm building and I want to come with him buried in me as far as he can get.  
“Please Jeff, I need you to fuck me” I whine.

He pulls off my cock with an obscene pop and chuckles darkly. It sounds filthy and that ramps my arousal up a level. He crawls up the bed like a lion stalking it’s prey and my stomach drops like a falling elevator. His mouth is on mine before I know it, stealing my breath. I hear the squeak of the drawer opening then he breaks the kiss to rip open the condom with his teeth. His eyes never leave mine. The look in them is so intense as he rolls the condom on.

“Jen.” he pants roughly as he pushes my legs apart and taking the hint I wrap them around his waist. With one hand he guides his cock into me as his lips find mine again. We are so close, as close as any two people can be. Moving together in synch, gasping words of adoration and affection. Until we both achieve completion. 

“Mmm you can wake me up like that again.” I snigger.

“That would be my pleasure.” Jeff says then kisses me soundly.

We get up around eleven and have a leisurely shower together, there may have been blowjobs included. I can neither confirm nor deny that, but we both leave the shower relaxed and smiling. I make a light breakfast of cereal and fruit. We sit opposite each other at the table and I can’t stop looking at him. Jeff gives me a look, a knowing look, a slow smile creeping over his face. It makes butterflies take flight in my stomach and my face heat. I watch him pick up a piece of pineapple and slowly put it in his mouth, juice overflows and drips down his lip. I’m across the table and in his lap before the juice dries. I lick at that sweetness and smile as he groans. 

“Stop teasing me.” I complain as I get up “We’ve got a busy day, and no time for your shenanigans.” 

“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.” he says smugly. I swat him as I pick up the dishes. 

I coerce Jeff into helping me wrap the presents I’d bought for Mom and Isaac. I had finally decided to buy Isaac some Glenmorangie, he was always extolling the virtues of whisky but I don’t think he’s ever had the Scottish single malt and I was hoping that he’d like it. I watch fascinated as Jeff wraps the presents. It is truly a skill. I find myself watching his hands, he has the sexiest hands. Large and manly. He catches my eye. He looks at me with such a smug expression I want to hit him, or kiss him, or fuck him. More to the point, I want to have him fuck me again. 

God! Since when is everything about sex? Just looking at him in his faded jeans, the left knee so worn that there is a hole… Hell, he doesn’t have to do anything to make me want to touch him. 

I’m looking at that hole. It’s not very large, maybe about the size of a penny, and I can see a little skin just peeking through. I can’t help myself; I have to reach over and touch, I run my finger down his thigh until I reach the hole. I touch his skin. I look up at his face, and he’s looking at me with such intensity that I feel my stomach swoop.

“Now don’t go starting anything,” he warns. ”We’ve got to be leaving shortly.”

Damn him for being so responsible.

Disappointment doesn’t stop me reaching over and kissing him.

We go to my mom’s in Jeff’s rental car, It takes half the time it takes me by bus and I think again how I should buy a car.

My mom is more excited to see Jeff than me. Rushing out to the street to greet him. She hugs him and fusses over him. I can see the wheels turning in her head: she’s already got him marked as her son-in-law. I bet she’s already working out how to introduce him to her friends. The fact that he’s a law professor will be in there somewhere. 

“Jeff, you look even more handsome than last time I saw you.” She giggles like a girl and not a woman in her fifties. I look at Isaac, but he just shrugs. “I hope you’ve been treating my boy well,” she continues. 

Oh, kill me now. 

“Jen, you better be appreciating Jeff, too.” 

Behind her, Jeff wiggles his eyebrows at me and I know what he’s thinking of. I snigger; I can’t help it, I certainly have been appreciating him. Appreciating him a lot, or appreciating a lot of him? Maybe both? 

My mom looks horrified and clips me round the ear. ‘Don’t be crude.’

“Mom,” I wail, rubbing the spot. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you thought it.” and I can’t argue with that. Jeff winks at me, the bastard.

“It’s your fault I’m in trouble.” I hiss and he just sniggers. 

Dinner is cooking and the whole place smells amazing.

“Mom can I help with anything.” I ask as I try to sneak into the kitchen. Hoping for some scrumptious pickings. But my mom just swats me back out.

“Everything is under control, and don’t think I’m not aware of your game, last year you ate so much before we sat down that you spoiled your dinner.” I try not to sulk 

“Time for presents?” asks Isaac, his head is already under the tree and he’s rifling through the pile of gifts. He’s always happier giving presents than receiving. He gets this gleam in his eye, you can actually feel his pleasure. I almost expect him to rub his hands together with glee. So we huddle around the tree and Isaac plays Santa, dishing out the presents. 

“Oh Jen.” Mom gasps as she unwraps her scarf “It’s beautiful,” she wraps it around her neck, the beautiful blue color accentuating her eyes, and I swear I see a tear there. 

“You old softy.” I tell her.

Isaac likes his whisky and goes to get some glasses so we can all try it out, so by the time dinner is served we’re all quite mellow. Isaac hands me my present, I can’t quite discern the look in his eyes. I’m not sure whether he is nervous or excited or a combination of both. I glance at my mom and she’s biting her lip. I slowly unwrap the present, I find my fingers are shaking slightly. I’m wondering what it can be. 

“A freakin’ Macbook Air” I gasp. 

I spend several minutes just caressing the box and then when I open it, the box opens so slowly and sweetly that I sigh.

“Sorry Jeff this is my new passion,” I say as I run my hand over its beautiful aluminum casing.

“Dumped for an inanimate object,” he moans. He looks so sad that I put my new baby down and give him a kiss. 

Mom laughs. “So you like it then?”

“Understatement.” I scoot over to kiss my mom. “You know you shouldn’t have, though.”

“Can’t I spoil my boy once in a while? You’re still using that old thing I got you for college!”

“Love you, Mom,” I say sincerely. She blushes, but looks so pleased I have to hug her again.

Dinner is wonderful. The turkey is cooked to perfection. The skin crisp and golden. The flesh moist. The stuffing is fragrant and spicy and the accompaniments are many and varied.

“Wonderful food Donna” Says Jeff between mouthfuls and I just nod so that I don’t waste precious eating time. Mom beams proudly as Isaac pats her hand. 

Jeff fits in seamlessly with my family, but that’s no surprise. My mom has had a soft spot for him since they bonded in hospital over my crazy ass. In fact, I think she would happily adopt him.

I watch Jeff interact with them. His face is so animated; he is really beautiful. He catches my eye and smiles at me and I can feel my heart trip. In a week he’ll be going home and I’m wondering how I’ll cope with that. It’s probably a little pathetic to fall so quickly, but I have no defenses against him—never have had. He wears me down with his kindness and his hotness. I may be a little shallow, but I can easily imagine waking up with him for the rest of my life.

Damn, that is what I want, I want him to stay with me, or ask me to go with him. 

 

The week between Christmas and New Year passes so quickly. I have to work and when I’m parted from him I experience physical pain. There’s an ache in my stomach that only eases as I walk up to my building and know that within moments I’ll see Jeff again. Be in his arms again. Jeff and I spend every spare minute together, talking, cuddling, and making love. When he looks at me, I can feel my legs give way. I love him but I’m not going to spoil things by telling him, it’s too soon. I can feel the burden of knowing he’s going to be leaving soon and it hurts, but I’m not going to let it wreck our limited time together.

Of course, the night before Jeff leaves is the first time either of us brings it up. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Jeff says, as if I hadn’t been counting the hours and minutes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I inhale sharply. “I don’t want you to go.”

“We live thousands of miles apart,” he says pensively.

My heart pounds. Is he going to say it’s over, over before it began? I want to tell him that I’ll pack my stuff up right now and go with him, but he might think that’s a little crazy. I feel dizzy, but realize it’s because I’m holding my breath.

“I may have put some feelers out to see if there are any suitable jobs here.” he says with a smile. “After all the weather’s better than Seattle.”

I gasp in a relieved lungful of air just before I pass out

“Could you stand the heat,” I ask banally, and I want to slap myself. What am I wittering on about? The man has just offered to move across the country, and I’m asking him about his weather tolerance. I shrug in apology and he snorts. Then he moves in and kisses me.

“I’m pretty sure I can stand the heat, honey,” he croons. 

“So…” I can’t get my thoughts in any sort of order. Mainly I’m thinking ‘yes’ and fist pumping, but that’s in my head. I do have some concerns. ”You’re prepared to pack in your job, leave a town you love, and move across the country for some man you’ve spent a week with?” Saying it out loud, it seems ridiculous. Although hadn’t I just been thinking of doing the exact same thing? 

“Jen, I’m prepared to move across country for a man I’ve been in love with for seven years. We just got sidetracked, sweetheart. That’s all.” 

Okay, my heart’s about to explode. 

“Jeff…” I’m in his lap but can’t remember moving. That’s okay-- I like this position, and from the swelling I can feel in Jeff’s pants, he does, too. The man is going to move here to live with me! It’s only polite that I show him my appreciation. Which I do by riding him enthusiastically and I may have possibly called him my cowboy. Okay, maybe in theory I should be the cowboy, but Jeff would look so much better in the outfit. 

Afterwards, when we’re sweaty and sated, Jeff whispers, “I’ve gotta get a cowboy hat.” Hello new fantasy.

The rest of the winter and early spring passes at a snails pace. Jeff went home to complete the term and pack up his house. He got a lead on a position at Southern Methodist University. Someone he had worked with in the past was leaving to take up a position in the UK and recommended him. He visited and liked the university, applied and was offered the job. Between January and May we get by on infrequent visits. Jeff came down a couple times, and I managed one trip back to Seattle. We don’t do much sight-seeing, preferring to spend it curled up with each other. I could never be a military spouse—I miss Jeff so badly it’s a physical ache.

Jeff and I call each other daily and use Skype as often as possible. It’s good to see my man, even if I can’t touch him. Sometimes he’s wearing his wire framed glasses and it just makes me want to do things to him. With him. I learn the fine art of phone sex. Jeff of course is a pro. I think it’s down to his voice, he could read a menu to me and it would get me hard. When he talks to me _in that way_ I just close my eyes and pretend that he’s here with me. Touching me. 

I can’t wait for him to move here. 

We’ve decided to buy a house once he arrives. I’ve even found a couple areas that I think we’ll both like, but I don’t want to commit to anything until Jeff’s seen them. That means we’ll be living in my apartment for a while. 

The day after the school shuts down for the summer, Jeff’s packed up and on his way to me. Today, today my man is moving in with me. Three days of hard driving and he’s nearly here. 

I’m so excited I can’t wait for him to arrive. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. Scruffy keeps looking at me as I pace up and down, so I scoop him up and dance around the room with him. He doesn’t know what to make of it all, but he loves the attention. He’s purring and drooling all over me in no time. I love my cat, drool and all. Finally—finally—I hear a truck pull up outside. I’m down and out the door before I can draw breath. Jeff gets out of the truck and opens his arms. He sweeps me up and kisses me right on my lips. A kiss I’ve waited one month, six days and three hours for. Not that I’ve been counting. But it was worth every second. His mouth is warm and perfect and I can’t help but moan.   
Mrs. Jones, who’s at least seventy, gives us a withering look. “I don’t need to see that sort of thing, boys. I have a problem with my blood pressure, you know?” Then she laughs, low and dirty. It’s such an incongruous sound coming from such an elderly lady, but as she laughs, wrinkles smooth out from her face and she appears younger, almost girly.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jones. We’ll take it inside.” Jeff gives her a knowing grin. 

“Make sure you’re not too noisy, now,” she says with a sly smile. Then she winks at us God, preserve us from pervy old ladies. 

Still, I drag my man inside to do exactly what Mrs. Jones thought we would. 

“Slow down.” Jeff says with a laugh. “We got lots of time.”

“It’s been over a month, Jeff,” I whine. “I’ve got needs” It’s true, Jeff has ignited my once dormant sex drive, “and it’s your job as my boyfriend to satisfy them.”

“I have the best job ever.” Jeff gloats before satisfying all my needs...twice.

 

Having Jeff here is wonderful. He is working on another book as well as preparing for the new semester. When I get home from the Mission it’s often to the aroma of home cooking and the tapping of the laptop. Jeff’s made himself a little office in the corner of the sitting room. Sometimes I find him there, glasses on, engrossed in writing. Other times I’ll find him on the couch laughing at a sit com or cheering the football. I’m starting to feel like my apartment is a home instead of just somewhere I sleep. 

Sometimes Jeff comes to the Mission armed with his laptop and sits at one of the quiet back tables. He can work on his book, enjoy some of Antonio’s cooking and I can stop by for a chat. Everyone fusses over him, he discusses literature with Mike, cooking with Antonio and music with the girls. It amazes and amuses me that he knows the names of the current heartthrobs. 

Dominic rang and offered to sell me a part share in the restaurant. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse and so now I’m a part business owner.

 

It’s August now and Jeff’s cooking. I’m not sure what but it smells like heaven. He moves around the kitchen, competent and confident, just like he does everything. He’s a fucking _law professor_ and I’m only a few steps up from a waiter.

“Do you regret moving here?” I ask, into the quiet.

“What the hell makes you ask that?” Jeff looks up from the stove 

“Nothing. I mean… Well, maybe sometimes I worry that I’m not good enough for you,” I mutter the last bit under my breath. 

Jeff’s face darkens and he snaps off the burner. Swinging around, he takes me by the hand and maneuvers me to a chair. Once I’m sitting down, he kneels on the floor in front of me. He takes my hands in one of his, and with his other he forces my head up until I’m forced to look him in the eye. “You really are the most annoying man I have ever met,” he snarls. I bristle and open my mouth to respond, but he shushes me. ”You are beautiful and clever, bright and caring, yet you can’t see it. You _refuse_ to see it. God knows why. As your boyfriend, your lover, your _partner_ , it’s my job to make you realize that I’m here because I want to be. That there is nowhere else I’d rather be, and that _I`m_ the one who barely deserves _you_ , you annoying man.” 

He finishes his rant by tugging me onto the floor so that I`m lying underneath him, caged by his arms, his body, his presence. He just looks at me, caressing my face, and I don`t know what to do or say. I _want >_


	14. Chapter 14

_I’m running down the street and there’s a phone booth every ten feet or so and they are all ringing. I know I need to answer all of them, but I don’t know which one to answer first._

_I need to pick one, any one. But I don’t know which one to choose…_

There’s a warm hand on my shoulder and I wake with a gasp.

“It’s okay, Jen,” Jeff’s voice is low and soothing, but it’s not okay. I’m sweating and shaking, and I don’t know why. It wasn’t even a particularly bad dream compared to some I’ve had. 

My cell is ringing and I pick it up with a shaky hand

“Hello?”

“Jensen.” It’s Mrs. Padalecki and she’s crying. That woke me up pretty quickly. Sitting up I said “Mrs P What’s wrong?” Shit, I already knew. They had found him.

“They’ve found some remains,” she chokes out and my heart stops. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Until Jeff takes my hand, and rubs it soothingly.  
I pull in another breath. And another, before I can ask “Is it him?’

“They won’t know ‘til they get the DNA back,” she says. Her voice shudders and hesitates as she fights for composure. “All they tell me is that ‘the remains are consistent with what they would expect after all this time.’” I can hear the quotes, even over the phone. 

“Jen,” she sobs. “They think they’ve found my boy.” 

It freezes me, even though I expected it.

We’ve had false alarms before, though mostly when he first went missing, but it’s been years since that last happened. I don’t know whether I want it to be him or not. 

I swallow, and my throat is so dry it clicks. “Do they know what happened?” 

“They found bodies—several bodies—at a farm outside of town. They won’t give me details...not until they’re sure. But, Jensen, they say it’s bad,” she stutters. “I can’t get my head around it, he could have been so close all this time, and yet we couldn’t find him. My poor boy!”

“Do you want me to come over?” I manage. Jared’s dad died a year ago, so Mrs. P is alone. 

“No. Thank you, Jensen,” she says. She’s a little calmer now. “You’re such a good boy; you never gave up hope.” 

It’s that simple statement that sets me off I’m crying, my whole body shaking. Jeff is there, holding me, being my strength. He’s there, letting me fall apart over my first boyfriend. He takes the phone when I can no longer hold it, and puts it on speaker phone.

“I’ll let you know,” she says. “They say it’ll take a couple of weeks.” Her voice breaks again. ”There aren’t enough teeth to use dental records.”

I hope I’m still asleep. I hope this is a nightmare. 

“I’ve got to go,” she says, still crying. She hangs up before I can reply, not that I knew what to say. I look at Jeff and his face is full of concern. I can’t talk. I can’t vocalize all the horrors that run through my mind.

Two hours later and Jeff and I are in the kitchen drinking coffee. Of course, neither of us could go back to sleep. I stared into my cup of black liquid and wondered if I’d ever be able to sleep again. I was starting to spiral, I could feel it happening and I couldn’t control it. I was questioning how I let go so easily, how I had been able to sleep at nights, how I was able to take up with another man. 

How I’d forgotten Jared was out there…

“Babe,” Jeff’s voice, so calm and loving, broke through my internal monologue. “He wouldn’t want you to make yourself ill over this”

I want to scream at him how does he know what Jared would want, but I know that he knows because he’s a good human being. Like Jared.. Jared wouldn’t want me to do this, to feel this, but my stomach is still in knots. 

“I just need to know—for sure,” I say. “Then I’ll be able to deal.”

I hope it’s true.

 

It was the longest week (day-year-hour) of my life is a common saying. People use it all the time - I’ve used it often myself. However, waiting on the DNA results to see if my missing boyfriend had been murdered really is the longest week of my life.

It’s all over the news, even though they don’t know much yet.

Albert Robert Hearne, known as ‘Bert’, owns a farm about forty miles outside of Dallas. He’s forty three years old and never married, He lived alone on his big farm, only bringing in the occasional day worker. One of these casual laborers had inadvertently unearthed bone’s while ploughing a field that had been left fallow for many years. He knew enough to realize they were human bones and he alerted the police. 

It hadn’t taken the cops long to find evidence of twelve separate victims. They’re still finding bodies so who knows what the final headcount will be.

The police aren’t willing to speculate on how many victims Hearne might have had, but they have confirmed the identities of five Dallas area teens whose bodies were less decomposed than the others, and they’re in the process of notifying the families. 

Thirteen years is plenty of time for Jared’s body to be almost completely gone.

The local news even interviewed some of the families. Evening television filled with tearful moms and stoic dads remembering their sons by sharing little snippets of their lives. “This is my Johnny, in his soccer uniform.” “David was going to be a doctor, he had just received his acceptance letter.”

I want to tell them about Jared’s smile.

I look at the photos of Albert Robert Hearne, he looks normal.

He looks like an ordinary, middle-aged man. White, like all of his victims, he’s medium height, medium build, not good looking but not ugly either. He has brown hair, going a little thin, and blue eyes. Nothing about him screams psycho, even though I examine the pictures of him with painstaking attention. Nothing. I could’ve walked past him in the street anytime in the last twenty years and never even noticed him.

An ordinary man who has stolen countless lives, ruined countless more, and no one can say why he did it. They have psychologists and sociologists on the shows, and each one has a theory: He may have had a bad childhood. His parents may not have loved him enough, maybe he’d been abused. Maybe he was a homosexual and he couldn’t cope with that. 

People in the nearest town all say the same thing: he was a nice man, kept himself to himself. It’s what everyone says when they find out a serial killer lives next door. They’re dissecting his life as thoroughly as he’d dissected his victims’ bodies, but in the end, no one knows for sure why he did it, and no one really cares. He had ‘issues’ and he took his issues out on innocent young men.

 

Jeff tries to stop me watching the programs. Whenever he catches me, he switches them off. I can’t help it I have a morbid fascination with the case. Watching like this removes me from the reality that one of those young men might be Jared. Jared may have met his end at that awful run down farm, looking at that plain ordinary face, and I don’t think my heart can take it. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighs as he turns the TV off again “It does no good watching this stuff over and over again.”

I look at him, he’s my anchor and my strength. “I know you’re right. It’s just that I need to know everything.” frustrated I look down at my hands wringing together in my lap. “I can’t explain why but I’m afraid that I’ll miss something and that it’ll be important.” Jeff sits down next to me and folds me into his arms. For a moment there’s just him and me and the rest of the world fades away.

Jeff’s not started work yet so he’s able to be with me, and my mother as we both go through this again. I tried to keep on working as I thought that it would distract me.  
Jada, Sarah, Mike and Antonio, tried to help as best they could. But I was far too preoccupied making errors with the reservations and ordering. And so I’ve been staying home watching TV and waiting for news.

We’re walking up the path to the Padalecki house. I’ve been putting off this visit for too long. I feel sick but Jeff’s hand offers a comforting warmth at my back and it gives me the strength to knock on the door. 

Mrs P answers the door. 

I’m shocked when I see her. It’s been a few months but she looks so frail now. She’s only in her late forties, but she looks twenty years older. 

“Jensen.” she manages a weak smile and I pull her into my arms, I can feel her bones under her skin as I give her a brief hug. Her eyes are brimming with tears but I can see her throat move as she swallows and fights them back. She was always a strong woman, but years and years of uncertainty have taken their toll.

“This is Jeff” I say and she smiles again and takes his hand. 

“I heard you finally had a boyfriend.” a tear overflows her eye and she angrily swiped it away “Sorry, I wanted to congratulate you and say ‘about damn time too’. I know you loved my boy but he would have wanted you to be happy.” then she’s crying and I am too. She’s right, everyone was right. Jared would want me to be happy.

 

We spend some time there in the sitting room with the grandchildren running around. Whooping and smiling but they aren’t distraction enough from the elephant in the room. I sigh with relief when we finally leave. I hug her tight at the door, and promise to come back soon.

 

Jeff and I are sitting in the living room. He’s working on his class prep, and I’m trying to read, but I’ve read the same sentence a dozen times when the phone rings. The blood in my veins turn to ice I know before Jeff picks it up that it’s Mrs. P. And I know what she’s going to tell me. 

Jeff hands the phone to me. My hand is shaking as I take it. 

“Jensen.” Her voice wavers with emotion.

“Yes.” My heart is thumping out of my chest.

“It isn’t him.”

It’s the biggest anti-climax of my life. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad. 

Then Mrs. P continues. “At least, not yet. They still think it’s likely that Jared … that Jared is out there. They think it, but we may never know for sure, because he fed some of his victims to the pigs.” She chokes on the last word, and I really feel sick now. She isn’t finished. “They say… They say that Jared was exactly the type of boy he went for.”

I already knew that. I’d watched so many newscasts about Albert Robert Hearne, I’m a bit of an expert. All the boys were tall, dark, and beautiful, just like my Jared.

“So we still don’t know anything then?” I ask her, because that’s what it comes down to.

“No,” she sobs. “But Jensen, I think it’s time now, I think I’m ready. I’m going to have him declared dead, and then I’m going to have a burial service for him.”

I want to argue that we don’t know that he’s dead. I want to ask what’s the point of a burial service when we have nothing to bury? But I don’t. Because I know that it is likely Jared is dead—if not at Hearne’s farm then elsewhere. And the point of the service isn’t the burying of the dead. It’s to bring closure

If this brings her some kind of closure then I should let her have this. I think most people would have already done it, but she’d waited thirteen years. Hoping beyond hope, that one day he would be found safe and well. 

I know that feeling. I’d spent years deluding myself that he was okay, just somewhere else, but the thing with a delusion is you have to commit to it one hundred percent. If you don’t then doubt creeps in, and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. 

“Okay,” I say resignedly. 

“We’ll celebrate his life,” she says and her voice becomes more animated. I start to think that maybe it will be a good idea. For her and for me.

“I’m going to go now, Jensen. I have plans to make.” She still sounds sad, but she’s no longer breaking apart.

“Let us know when and where.” I finish the call, and then I walk into Jeff’s arms.


	15. and epilogue

We have Jared’s memorial service on a spring day, hundreds of people turned up. Jared was well loved. There are people from school, teachers, ex pupils, their parents and now their children too. Jared’s mom walks into the church dry-eyed and with a serene dignity surrounding her. She greets the mourners with a smile.

I’m amazed. I’m a bit of a wreck because it all feels surreal. I look at all the people, some I recognize and some I don’t. They are all here because of a boy called Jared. A boy who had an infectious smile and who grabbed life by the scruff of the neck and enjoyed every minute. They’re here because he left a lasting impression and even though thirteen years have passed they still remember him.

Jeff leads me to a pew located at the front of the church and whispers

“Sweetheart, you should use this as an opportunity to say goodbye properly.”

I know he’s right, and looking at him sitting next to me in the church, I know how much he loves me. He’s put up with so much crap from me and he’s willing to come to the funeral of my first boyfriend. I take his hand and he squeezes mine reassuringly.

The church is decorated with photos of Jared, and a fair few of them are of him and me together. We look so young, so innocent and hopeful. One of the photographs had been taken mere days before Jared went missing; we have our arms around each other and he’s looking at me, not the camera. There’s so much devotion in that gaze that it hurts to look at it. It hurts to think that Jared didn’t get any older, that all his promise was snuffed out by a monster masquerading as a farmer. It makes me cry a little and Jeff puts his arm around me. 

“My son Jared,” Mrs. P says to the congregation. “He was my pride and joy, my middle child was so different to his older brother. Where Jeff was serious, Jared was joyful, always joking and trying to make us laugh. He was such a kind boy. He loved his family, his friends, and his boyfriend.” She smiles at me. ‘When he disappeared, he left such a hole in our lives… Nothing could fill it. We may never know where he is, but I believe that if he were alive he would be home with us now. Thank you all for coming today, and let’s celebrate his life.” She gives a truly beatific smile that makes the years fall away, that smile is all Jared and I walk up to her and kiss her on the cheek. 

I hadn’t planned on saying anything but I realize that I have to.

“Jared was my everything,” I begin. My palms sweaty on the lectern “He was my best friend, my boyfriend, my brother, my lover, and it’s been really hard not knowing what happened to him.” I sigh “But Mrs. P—Sherri—is right. If Jared was still alive, nothing would stop him coming home to us. I’m grateful for the time we had together, even though it was far too short.” I sniff-- I will not break down. “I think Jared would appreciate that we’re having a party in his honor. That boy he loved parties.” There were some chuckles from the crowd. “I’d like to finish with a poem by Ellen Brenneman” I took a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. I had found it on the internet last night and printed it out just in case. It felt right, it felt like it had been written about Jared.

“Don’t think of him as gone away  
his journey’s just begun  
life holds so many facets  
this earth is only one.

Just think of him as resting  
from the sorrows and the tears  
in a place of warmth and comfort  
where there are no days and years.

Think how he must be wishing  
that we could know today  
how nothing but our sadness  
can really pass away.

And think of him as living  
in the hearts of those he touched...  
for nothing loved is ever lost  
and he was loved so much.”

I look up and see that the congregation feels as moved as I do. Some are openly crying. I manage a nod, as my throat felt like it was closing.

Jeff smiles at me as I walk back to our seat.

After we make our way to a local club and spend time reminiscing about Jared.

”I remember the time Jared thought it would be a good idea to break into the school pool,” says Tom, who’d been on the football team with Jared. “The security guard came by on patrol and we all tried to hide under the water. We couldn’t tell when the guy left and we practically drowned ourselves trying to stay hidden.’  
I do remember that. Lungs burning, staring at Jared pleading with him to let us go up.  
He snorted. “and we still managed to get caught.”

“That week of detention sucked,” Tom says and it did, but seeing the mischief in Jared’s eyes almost made it worth it.

I look around the room and I can see that Jared made such a strong impression on people’s lives that they were willing to drop everything to come and celebrate the life of a boy. A boy that had been gone from us for so long. 

Katie who was a journalist now in New York but who used to have such a big crush on Jared. She looks unsteady on her feet, her eyes red and swollen, but she’s trying to smile and give Jared the send off he deserves. I guess unrequited love is still love at the end of the day, I go over and give her a big hug which seems to open the floodgates.

“I still can’t believe it” she sobs “I still expect him to come home with a tan and shout ‘fooled ya’’’

“He would never be so cruel” I say

“I know, but I just keep hoping” she sighs “maybe it’s time to just accept that he’s not coming back”

I nod, it really is time to accept that now. Really it’s passed time.

Then there’s Principal Beaver, he’s retired now, but I can’t think of him by any other name, although he told me to call him Jim. He confided in me that losing Jared was the single worst thing that had happened to him in his entire career. He had known children that had been horribly abused, children that killed themselves, children that had even killed each other, but the worst thing was a young promising boy disappearing one summer day and never being seen again.  

Katie Cassidy, who’d had a crush on him. Mr. Beaver, who’d been our principal. Even Mr Singh from the store. My Jared, who’d probably only lived to be eighteen, had touched the lives of all these people. I hope he’s resting easy. I hope he knows how much I love him, and that I’ll never stop missing him. 

As Jeff and I walk to the car, I ask him. “Do you think Jared ever forgave me for that argument we had just before he disappeared?”

Jeff stops and takes my face in his hands, gently lifting it so that I have to look into his eyes. “Jen, of course he did.” His voice is sure, confident of the answer. “I never met him, but from all the stories I just heard, he was a loving and forgiving boy. It’s obvious that he loved you. Of course, he forgave you.”

I nod, because I can’t talk. My eyes are full, but I’m not going to cry. Instead, I lean forward and kiss him. 

“I love you,” I say. I’ve loved him for a while now but I’ve never said it. I don’t know why. And Jeff bless him has never pushed the issue. 

“I know” He smirks, the fucker, but then he kisses me properly, slow, deep and perfect. “and I love you too.”

**Epilogue - three years later**

 

Jared’s funeral wasn’t quite the closure we all hoped it would be. I still have my bad days, I’m sure Jared’s mom does too. Some days I still cry, but those bad days are few and far between now. His birthday and the anniversary of the day he disappeared, in fact that whole week between the 19th of July and the 25, those tend to be red letter days for me and Jeff often will take time off work and try to distract me. 

I still think of him sometimes, late at night as the darkness wraps round me like a velvet blanket. I wonder if he’s alive somewhere, living under an assumed name. Maybe with no memory of the past. Or is he alone in the dark, cold and rotting and never knowing just how much I loved him. Love him still. Then I turn in the circle of Jeff’s arms, his warmth permeating through me and I chase away those thoughts of a boy I loved so long ago. Of a boy I loved when I was still a boy myself. I relax against Jeff feeling his breath at my neck, warm and comforting and I smile as sleep takes me.

 

I hear Jeff’s key rattling in the lock and look up from my journal.

“Hey, baby, you ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. I pick up the flower arrangement I bought earlier and meet him at the door. He kisses me on the cheek and holds the door for me. 

It’s Jared’s birthday today. He would be thirty-three.

Every year, Jeff drives me to the cemetery to say happy birthday. I know he’s not really there, but it’s still comforting to have a place to go, to see the marker that says that he existed, that he lived and was loved before he disappeared. 

I lay the flowers down next to a bunch that his mom must have left. They’re already a little wilted from the heat. 

“Hey Jay,” I whisper. “Happy birthday.” I caress the headstone, it’s beautiful black marble with gold lettering. “I still miss you, you big goof. I still love you, and one day we’ll see each other again.”

Jeff’s hand is firm and comforting at my back and I feel like it’s the only thing holding me together.

“Jay” I say brokenly “I told you about Jeff,” I continue. “Well, we got married last year. I know it was meant to be you and me forever, but you’ve been gone such a long time. I hope you don’t mind” I break off, this is harder than I thought “I love him and he’s good to me. I know you’d like him. I love you but I love Jeff too.”

I look at Jeff. There are tears in my eyes and in his. . 

I can hear the sounds of the cemetery. The traffic noise is dampened down, almost in respect to it’s surroundings, and I can hear a bee buzzing as it attends to the business of pollinating the wild flowers. And I can hear the faint whisper of the gentle breeze. 

I realize I’m listening in the vain hope that I’ll hear Jared offer his blessing. 

I feel a soft touch on my neck. I turn and look up at Jeff, but it’s not him. He’s still got his hand at the small of my back. 

Maybe it was the breeze, but it had felt like a caress. It felt like the soft little touches that Jared used lavish on me.

I bend and kiss the top of his grave stone. “Goodbye, baby.”


End file.
